Sacrifice
by Gmariam
Summary: When Jack is inexplicably injured by a brilliant enemy from the future, the consequences quickly threaten the very fabric of space and time, forcing Ianto to make the hardest decision of his life: accept Jack's mortal death and watch time unravel, or save the universe and condemn Jack once more to an eternity of immortality.
1. Chapter One

I._ Time changes everything except something within us which is always surprised by change. ~Thomas Hardy _

The night was cold and wet, typical for winter in Cardiff, but generally a bad night to be out, and a much better night to be inside. To watch a movie, lie by the fire, or curl up with tangled limbs in bed. Instead, Jack was running down a pack of alien hellhounds through Bute Park, swearing under his breath as he pounded through the dark. Gwen and Owen had gone after a lone runner, while he and Ianto continued after the other two creatures, turning left and sprinting across the frost-covered grass. They crashed through a copse of trees and burst into a clearing, where they stopped in their tracks, the wrong end of a strange gun pointed straight at them.

"Bloody hell," Jack swore, falling forward as he tried to stop himself from slipping in the wet grass. Ianto ran up behind him and somehow managed to catch them both.

"Nice to see you too, Jack—what is it now?" The voice behind the gun was gruff yet cultured, bitterness and sarcasm clear in the deep baritone. "Harkness, right?"

"Captain Jack Harkness, Torchwood," replied Jack. He recognized that voice, remembered it from his past. It shouldn't be here, _he_ shouldn't be here…

The man with the gun stepped out from the shadows of a nearby pine. He was tall, yet his formerly muscular frame was now thin and gaunt; his once handsome face was worn down with years, and there was a wild look about his piercing green eyes that Jack immediately suspected hid more than the deep resentment obvious in the man's words.

"Ah, Torchwood." The man nodded, sounding both angry and amused at the same time. "That's right, you're in charge now, aren't you?"

"I am," said Jack, his lip curling in disgust at the man's appearance and attitude. It reminded him of the night John Hart had showed up last spring, only this was worse: Parker Douglas clearly hated Jack with every fibre of his being. "What are you doing here?"

"What, no hug, no handshake—not even a punch in the face?" Douglas asked, his crooked grin more of a sneer.

"Jack?" asked Ianto, stepping calmly to his right side and eyeing the man before them. "Would you like me to punch him in the face?"

"Not yet," said Jack, trying to figure out what was going on. "What are you doing here, Parker? Last I heard, you were in prison on Volag-Noc." _In the fifty-first century, _he added to himself. That had been before Jack had met the Doctor, of course, but who knew how much time had passed for Douglas? He looked twice Jack's age now.

"All because of you," the man hissed, and Jack felt Ianto gazing at him curiously, no doubt already turning over the man's response. "Have you ever been there, Jack? It's a horrible place…dark, cold…a frozen hellhole in the middle of outer space."

"I've been there," Jack stated simply. He knew perfectly well what it was like, even though he'd never been a prisoner there. He had endured his own personal hells over the years, however, and had little sympathy for the man standing before him, radiating resentment. Parker Douglas had gone to prison to pay for his crimes; Jack had done penance for his own and owed Douglas nothing.

"Twenty-five years, Jack," Parker said, green eyes blazing with fury. "Twenty-five years does things to a man, you know."

Jack's face hardened. "Try several hundred, sometime."

Douglas rolled his eyes and waved his gun around somewhat carelessly. Jack didn't recognize the weapon and knew he could not be too cavalier given Parker's history and current demeanor. "There you go again, Jack, always blustering in with a bigger, better story. Well, the universe won't have to worry about that much longer."

"Why, are you here for some sort of revenge?" Jack asked. Jack might have laughed in the man's face if not for the seriousness of the situation. How many enemies from his past would keep finding him, keep coming back for revenge? When would it ever end?

"Actually, that _is_ why I'm here," said Douglas, pretending exaggerated surprise at Jack's deduction.

"You went to prison for a crime you, and only you, committed," Jack pointed out. "Not my problem."

"Oh, but it is your problem, Jack," replied Douglas, "or it will be soon."

"Well, you can't kill me," said Jack with a cavalier shrug, unable to keep all his bravado in check; Douglas didn't need to know that Jack meant it literally. "And I won't let you kill anyone else. Been there, done that—not letting it happen."

"I don't need to kill anyone else, Jack. I _can_ kill you." The zealous light in Parker's eyes almost worried Jack, because this man believed what he said. He believed it was possible even though it wasn't, and Jack knew from experience that the power of belief gave men the ability to do unspeakable, almost impossible things at times.

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but Ianto stepped closer at that moment, shooting him a warning glance that spoke volumes without saying a word: _Don't antagonize. Find out more_.

"I don't like to die," Jack said casually, crossing his arms over his chest. "And my team wouldn't like it either. So how do you plan on pulling it off?"

"I was a Time Agent, Jack," Douglas replied expansively, waving his left arm and clearly showing them the vortex manipulator strapped to it. Where he had acquired it, Jack had no idea; Parker's own wrist strap had been confiscated when he had been sentenced to prison on Volag-Noc, and he should not have been given a new one upon his release given his past actions.

"I know things about time—how it works, how to manipulate it, how to change it." He watched Jack closely, a manic light gleaming in his eyes. "And I know what it's done to you, Jack."

"It's against regulations to manipulate the timestream for personal motives," Jack quoted automatically, Time Agent training drummed into him a lifetime ago returning automatically. He tried to ignore the prickle at the nape of his neck the man's other words stirred: _I know what it's done to you._ Very few people knew, and there was no way Parker Douglas could be one of them, not when he had spent years in prison, far in the future. "Orders only. Besides, trying to change time is what got you arrested and shipped to Volag Noc. Are you under orders to kill me?"

"Oh no, once again it's quite personal," the man replied with a soft laugh. Beside Jack, Ianto tensed at Douglas's glib answer. "Besides, the Time Agency is gone, officially disbanded. There are only five of them left now. And no one is going to care about the death of a rogue Time Agent three thousand years in the past."

"Last I heard there were seven left." Of course, that had been from John Hart, and at that time for John it might well have been true. Time Agents did not always follow a linear timeline.

"Yes, well." Parker shrugged and fingered the wrist strap on his arm, the meaning clear. So that was how he had come by it, and how he had traveled back from the 51st century. "Things happen. Soon there will be even fewer, no doubt."

"Not if I can help it," Jack said, grinning suddenly to distract the other man. His hand moved to his waist for his Webley, reflexes honed after years of similar confrontations. He instinctively knew Ianto was reaching for his own weapon as well. "Drop—."

Parker stepped back, turned slightly, and shot Ianto in the hand before Jack had even finished speaking.

"Drop yours first," he hissed. "This won't be as fun if I have to waste another bullet on your mortal friend here."

Jack frowned at the use of the word mortal. Waste a shot? Beside him, Ianto had doubled over, hand clutched to his chest. He immediately began to undo his tie, wrapping it around his injured hand, jaw tight as he stood straighter to face their attacker. "Something's not right, Jack," he murmured. "He knows something."

Jack hesitated, and the other man waved at the Webley. With a growl of frustration, Jack lowered his weapon, unwilling to take any more chances with Ianto's life. Douglas gestured for the gun, Jack handed it over reluctantly, and the former Time Agent tossed it behind him into the bushes with a manic grin. Then he held open his other hand for Ianto's gun and tossed that weapon away as well. Ianto glared at him the entire time, grimacing in pain; Jack wondered how badly Ianto's hand was injured.

"Good boy, Jack. Nice to know you can do what you're told now, even if you were a self-righteous son of a bitch at the Time Agency."

"I was following orders," Jack snapped.

"Ah, but see—you had a reputation as a maverick, Jack," said Parker. "Everyone knew you didn't _always_ follow orders. In fact, I know you lost two years of your life for it."

Jack blanched, and beside him he heard Ianto inhale sharply through his nose. "That has nothing to do with this."

"How do you know?" Parker leaned close and whispered almost seductively. "You don't remember."

Jack clenched his teeth as he thought about rushing the man, but Douglas still had a strange weapon trained on them and quick reflexes in spite of his age and imprisonment. Jack forced himself to relax, to check instincts that might make the situation worse.

"I was following orders," Jack ground out again. "What you chose to do after that is on your conscience."

"Because you don't have one, do you, Jack? Because you couldn't have just ignored those orders? You couldn't have played the maverick one more time and refused?"

"It was the right thing to do," Jack said simply, and Parker's face colored as he gave into his fury over what had happened so long ago for them both.

"She was my wife," he hissed, and he struck the butt end of the gun against Jack's temple, sending him to his knees as blood began to run down his cheek. Douglas pointed the weapon at Ianto again, motioning at him to do the same. "On the ground with him, hands behind your head. You know how it works."

"You said you weren't going to waste another shot on him," said Jack as he straightened and looked up into Parker's crazed eyes. He tapped the comm in his ear as he raised his hands, hoping that Gwen and Owen weren't too far away and would pick up on what was happening. "He has nothing to do with this. It's between you and me."

"I know. I'm not going to kill him." Douglas grinned ferally and stepped forward to run the barrel of the gun down the side of Ianto's face before turning toward Jack. "Someone should bear witness to your death, after all. One of your _team._" Ianto glanced sideways at Jack, an unasked question in his eyes. Jack shook his head in return; better to let Parker shoot him and believe him dead than to risk worse; something was not right with the situation.

"Now, I would apologize," said Parker, stepping back with a flourish and pointing the gun directly at Jack's chest. "But you deserve this, Jack, more than anyone in all of history. So instead, I shall wish you a long and painful death, with the hope that you rot in hell for the rest of eternity."

Without any warning—no grin, no blink, not even a twitch of his finger—Parker Douglas pulled the trigger, and Jack felt the bullet rip into his chest almost instantly, tearing through muscle and bone with blazing sharp pain. He fell forward onto his hands, gasping for breath as shock set in immediately. He sensed rather than saw Ianto grab his second weapon from his ankle holster, but Parker Douglas was already transporting away, and the bullets flew through empty air. Ianto swore as he moved toward Jack, catching him when he toppled over sideways and taking his head in his lap. Jack heard him call for Owen as if from a distance.

"Hang on, Jack," said Ianto, brushing a gentle hand across his face. "Owen's already on his way."

"I'll be fine," Jack murmured, wondering why Ianto was so insistent on calling the doctor for a relatively uncomplicated death by gunshot wound. Yes, it was messy, and it hurt like hell, but it didn't usually take that long to revive. He tasted blood on his lips and let his eyes close, waiting for that moment when he passed over and the darkness surrounded him, until he was pulled across the void and dragged back to life again. "I'll come back, I always do."

"Jack, what if something's different this time?" Ianto murmured. "He said that he knew you, that he knew time and what it had done to you. He said that he could kill you. What if he can?"

Looking up at the worried face hovering before him, Jack tried to smile convincingly through the pain. "Not gonna happen," he rasped. And yet, even as he denied it, he began to wonder if Ianto might be right. Something was different; he could feel it inside of him, moving already, changing him. It was as if cold fingers were wrapping themselves around each and every cell in his body, squeezing them of life and their unique ability to cling to it no matter what happened. It was different from anything he had ever felt before after being seriously injured, and Jack began to have his doubts.

Maybe he wouldn't come back this time; maybe this was it. Maybe Death had finally found him, after all these years, in the form of one bullet and a rogue Time Agent named Parker Douglas.

"No, not yet," he whispered, sinking toward unconsciousness as the pain became unbearable. He reached out desperately for Ianto's hands, needing to feel their warmth when Jack felt colder than he ever had before. He was not ready for this, not yet; he wanted more time. He'd just found something worth living for—someone he wanted to stay with for as long as he possibly could—and could not bear the idea of being ripped away from that so soon. "Not now. Ianto, I—"

But then the darkness overwhelmed him, and for the first time in over a century, Jack feared it.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Thank you so much to my lovely beta, Tamaar, who has helped me hash out much of this story already and fixes the awkward the stuff so well. And to Cerih and Darcy58, my first wonderful sounding boards, who continue to support me and my crazy ideas.

This is my newest attempt at a slightly longer story that explores the ideas laid out in the summary. Look for about fifteen short chapters, with regular updates and a possible twist or two. I do hope you enjoy it. Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter Two

II._ There's time enough, but none to spare. ~ Charles W. Chesnutt_

Owen raced through the woods ahead of Gwen, hurrying toward the sound of Ianto's voice guiding him over the comm. Ianto sounded like he was in pain, but worse, he sounded worried, and even scared. They'd been shot, he'd said. Great. Leave it to Jack and Ianto to run off together after a bunch of ugly dogs and get shot.

What Owen couldn't figure out was the edge to Ianto's words. Was he badly injured and barely keeping the pain in check? Since Jack wasn't on the comm, Owen had to assume Jack was either dead or unconscious; either way, he'd bounce back. Jack had told him once that recovering from a gunshot wound varied between a few minutes and a few hours, depending on the severity of tissue damage and blood loss. Hell, maybe by the time Owen got there Jack would be gasping and flailing back to life in Ianto's arms like he usually did.

Unless, of course, tea boy himself was worse than he was letting on, and Owen found them both slumped over in the woods.

He finally burst into a clearing, where, sure enough, Ianto was sitting in the wet grass, probably soaked through already, holding Jack's head in his lap. Owen assessed the situation immediately: Jack was down for the count, and Ianto had his tie wrapped around his right hand. Even in the dark, Owen could see quite a bit of blood on them both, and since Ianto didn't appear to be otherwise injured, that meant it was probably Jack's, and it might be a while before he revived. So Owen moved to Ianto's side, setting down his kit and reaching out for the man's hand.

"No, it's Jack," Ianto said, his voice tight not only with pain but, even more so, the fear Owen had heard over the comm.

Owen looked down at Jack; he'd been shot in the chest and was still bleeding copiously. It had happened before. Owen had watched before as the skin miraculously knitted back together, and Jack slowly but surely recovered and revived from a wound that would have killed a normal human being. Owen had no reason to suspect something different would happen now. It was their one constant in Torchwood, that Jack Harkness could survive anything.

"There's nothing I can do for him," he said quietly, wondering if Ianto was slightly delirious from pain. "Let me see your hand."

"It's fine. I've wrapped it to stop the bleeding," Ianto replied, shaking his head. "You have to look at Jack. He's not dead. Something's different this time."

Owen frowned, taking out one of his scanners and running it over Ianto. It showed only the wound to his hand, with the obvious elevation in heart rate and blood pressure due to the physical stress. Ianto growled and batted it away.

"Dammit, run it over Jack! I'm telling you that something's wrong!"

"All right, all right," Owen said calmly, trying not to snap back when Ianto was obviously upset. Gwen burst into the clearing then and leaned over, breathing heavily.

"Ianto, are you all right?" she gasped. Of course they didn't bother asking about Jack anymore; he always came back. Ianto glared at her and turned to Owen.

"What does it say?"

Owen frowned, because something was definitely wrong: Jack was still alive, but his cells hadn't yet begun the basic regeneration process Owen was used to seeing on his scanners.

"How long has it been?" he asked, moving around to Jack's other side to have a look at the wound.

"Not even five minutes," said Ianto. "It hasn't started, has it? He's not healing?"

Owen was silent as he pulled open Jack's coat and shirt to inspect the wound; it was a typical bullet wound, just a shade shy of his heart, and it was still bleeding. Frowning again, he double-checked the scanners before he ripped off his own jacket and began to put pressure on the wound. Something was niggling in the back of his mind, that if Ianto was right and the scanners weren't broken, then he needed to get to work on Jack fast.

"Gwen!" he snapped. "Get the SUV. We need to get him back to the Hub as fast as possible."

Gwen nodded and left without a word, though she appeared confused. Ianto closed his eyes as she ran off.

"He's not going to make it this time, is he?" the Welshman whispered.

"He will if I have anything to say about it," Owen snapped. "You're right, his cells haven't started any sort of basic repair yet. Tell me what happened so we can figure out why."

Ianto opened his eyes and blew out a long breath. "We ran into an old friend of his…or rather, an enemy. Another Time Agent."

Owen glanced up in surprise. "Tell me it wasn't bloody John Hart."

"No, someone else. He had a history with Jack, too, and not a good one. I think Jack did something that helped put this man in prison. He came back to kill Jack."

Owen snorted and offered a weak smile of support to Ianto, who appeared more than visibly upset now. He was staring dully at Jack, his face lined with worry and pain. Ianto started to shiver, and Owen suspected the man was going into shock from his own wound and the cold. They needed to get both men warm fast. "Can't kill a man who won't stay dead."

"That's the thing," Ianto said, his voice rough with emotion. "He said he knew Jack, knew what had happened to him. The way he talked…it was as if he really believed that he could kill Jack. Forever."

"Not going to happen," Owen said, and Ianto started at the words before laughing nervously.

"That's what Jack said," he murmured, shaking his head as if in a daze. "But right before he lost consciousness he said something…"

They heard the SUV crash into the clearing then, knocking over several small saplings as it roared to a stop before them. Owen glanced up into Ianto's shadowed eyes. "What did he say?" he asked, although he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Not yet," Ianto whispered, ducking his head. "He said 'Not yet, not now.'" With a thick swallow, he met Owen's surprised glance. "He knew."

Gwen jumped out of the SUV and ran over to them. "Bollocks he knew," Owen snapped at Ianto. "He's not going to die permanently, not on my watch. Get in the back with him. Gwen, help us move him."

Together they barely managed to get Jack back the SUV, where they laid him across the back seat as best as they could, his head once again in Ianto's lap. Owen handed Ianto a clean towel from the boot.

"Keep as much pressure on the wound as you can." He tossed several blankets over them both so that they didn't get hypothermia, took out a hypodermic needle and, without a word of warning, stuck Ianto in the palm of his hand, earning a hissed curse in return.

"It's for the pain. I'll have a look at it back at the Hub after we've settled Jack."

"Shouldn't you be sitting here?" Ianto asked.

"Gwen, you drive," Owen ordered, climbing into the passenger seat. She once again obeyed without question; she must be rattled at seeing Jack in such a state to remain so quiet. "And no, I'm going to keep on these readings and call Tosh to have her get things ready for us." He turned and gave Ianto as much as of a smile as he could manage. "Besides, he likes waking up in your crotch much better than mine."

Ianto rolled his eyes, which meant the pain medication must be working already. The look on his face, however, was still one of deep fear, and Owen knew they would have to drive fast and work even faster to figure this out.

Because the readings didn't make sense: Jack was getting worse, not better. And Jack Harkness never got worse. Something was very wrong, and Owen just hoped he had enough time to fix it.

* * *

Tosh gasped when she saw them come down the lift, Owen and Ianto somehow supporting Jack between them. There was blood, so much blood, over all three of them. She had rarely seen Jack so pale and weak, even in death, and it frightened her. If it scared her, and it did, she couldn't imagine what Ianto must be feeling at that moment.

And then she realized that Ianto was injured as well, holding his right hand to his chest, his own face pale and dirty and smeared with either his own blood, or Jack's blood, or possibly both. Something had gone terribly wrong out there, something that had nothing to do with the hellhounds they had been tracking.

Rushing over to the lift, she immediately took Ianto's place under Jack's shoulder and helped Owen get the unconscious man down to the medical bay. Ianto threw off his wet overcoat and followed, and within moments Gwen came running in from the car park, her face mirroring exactly what Tosh felt: terrified and confused.

"What happened?" Gwen demanded as they laid Jack out on the table. Owen immediately stripped him of his wet clothes and wrapped him in the thermal blankets he'd had Tosh get ready. Then he turned on all the scanners, studied them for a few seconds, and shook his head.

"I don't know," Owen said. "He's not dead, but he's still not healing. I think the first thing we need to do is to get the bullet out. Maybe that will start the process."

"Usually his body just expels it," Ianto said quietly, standing at the foot of the bed and staring into a face that Tosh had only ever seen so still in death. Yet the monitors showed Jack was alive—barely, yet still alive. He had not died, but he hadn't started to recover either.

"Yeah, well, it's still in there, so maybe something about the bullet is stopping him from dying and healing himself." Owen turned to Tosh. "Scrub up, you're my new assistant for emergency surgery."

Tosh glanced at Ianto, who nodded in support. Owen turned to Gwen as Tosh moved away to start cleaning up. Owen rarely asked her to help in the medical bay, only when things got desperate; apparently this was one of those times. Taking a deep breath, she began to scrub her hands and arms, found gloves and gowns for them both, and listened over her shoulder to Owen issuing more orders.

"Gwen, take a look at Ianto's hand." Tosh could imagine Gwen's eyes going wide at the command. "He's been untreated for too long. I don't want him to go into septic shock or lose his hand to an infection." Behind her, Ianto began protesting.

"Forget it, Ianto. You need it taken care of. Gwen, drag his arse upstairs and clean it. I've given him a shot of morphine, but it will probably still sting. A good cleaning, then dry it and wrap it. I'll stitch it up when we're done with Jack." He began prepping Jack for surgery, hooking up IVs and gathering what he needed to save Jack.

Tosh hurried back to the table, where Ianto was now standing by Jack's side, holding Jack's hand in his own good one. Tosh touched him lightly on the shoulder, and he jumped.

"Let Owen do what he needs to do for Jack," she told him softly. "And let Gwen help you with your hand." Ianto turned to look at her over his shoulder, and she was slightly shocked to see how red his eyes were. She knew how much Ianto hated it when Jack died—it was difficult for all of them—but this was different somehow. Ianto was much more upset than usual, his whole bearing anxious and worried, as if he didn't believe Jack would come back this time. After a long moment of silence, he finally nodded and moved away. Owen returned, and Tosh helped him into his gown. He pulled over a tray of surgical instruments, looked up at Tosh, and gave her a very serious look.

"Ready?"

"Not to lose him, no way," she said softly, and he nodded in agreement. She saw him take a deep breath and knew he was settling himself for the task at hand. He'd saved all their lives at some point, but Jack had never needed saving, not like this.

Reaching over to take his gloved hand, Tosh squeezed it tight even if Owen couldn't feel it anymore. He looked as scared as she felt, because the thought of losing Jack to the one thing they'd never given second thought for was more frightening than anything else they had faced.

* * *

Gwen tried to keep her hands steady as she gently washed Ianto's wounded hand. To her surprise and relief, the injury wasn't as bad as it had appeared. Had he been shot through the hand, he'd probably need surgery and months of physical therapy. As it was, the bullet had grazed across his palm, leaving a deep, ugly, burn-like gash, it but had not penetrated the muscle or shattered any bone. He was lucky.

She was fairly certain, however, that Ianto did not feel lucky. Not that he gave anything away; he was stoic, staring straight ahead at something over her shoulder, his body rigid and tense, but Gwen could almost feel the fear and worry pouring off him. She tried to give him an encouraging smile.

"I'm no doctor, but I don't think your hand's too bad," she said, dabbing at the wound to dry it before she started wrapped it in a clean dressing. He tried to hold back a hiss of pain, but it must have stung. "Owen should still look at it because I don't know if it'll be wanting sutures, but at least you weren't shot through."

Steel blue eyes met hers for a moment before flicking away to stare back over her shoulder. Gwen sighed.

"He'll be all right, Ianto," she said softly. "It's Jack. He always comes back. If something's just taking a bit longer, Owen will figure it out."

Ianto actually nodded in response this time. He looked down before glancing into her face again. "Then why do I have this gut feeling that he won't?"

"Why do you think that?" asked Gwen, beginning to wrap his hand the best that she could. "What happened out there?"

Ianto ran his other hand through his hair and sighed. "He was shot by a Time Agent from the future, a man named Parker Douglas."

"Do we know why?" asked Gwen, trying to keep Ianto talking about the facts rather than over-thinking the possibilities.

"Something to do with Jack's work at the Time Agency. Something to do with the man's wife."

"Jack sleep with her, then?" Gwen teased, knowing she could get away with it because it was so far in Jack's past; he was a different man now. Yet where Ianto might have smiled once and rolled his eyes, this time he frowned and shook his head.

"No, I think she died. And Parker Douglas clearly blamed Jack."

"So he came all the way to the past to kill him?" asked Gwen. "Why would he do that? Why not kill him in the future?"

"He was in prison for twenty-five years," Ianto said, obviously trying to figure it out. "So Jack would have left the Agency by then and disappeared into the past."

"I wonder how he found him, then."

"He seemed familiar with the name Torchwood," said Ianto, narrowing his eyes as if recalling the moment. "He knew Jack was the leader. Maybe Jack made it into the history books."

"But then Jack would have known his own future, wouldn't he?" asked Gwen. Usually time travel confused her too much to even try to participate in a conversation about it, but that much seemed fairly obvious.

"He had a different name in his time," Ianto murmured. "He's a different man now."

Of course, she thought to herself. Jack Harkness was the name he had assumed after he had left the Time Agency and first come to earth. So the question was how Parker Douglas had associated the name of a World War II soldier with the Time Agent he was so furious with. Ianto shook his head when she asked.

"I don't know. But something was different, Gwen—something about the way Douglas looked at Jack. It was like he knew Jack was immortal, but had absolute confidence that he could kill Jack. He said something about wasting a shot on me and referred to me being mortal."

Gwen taped the wrapping and stepped back. Ianto held his hand in front of him and raised an eyebrow; his entire hand was covered in white gauze, and he could only wiggle his fingertips. "Use enough then?" he asked dryly, and she couldn't help but laugh nervously as she placed a kiss on his cheek.

"I'm sorry, I really don't know what I'm doing. How does it feel?" she asked.

"Still numb, although I'm sure that won't last for long." He stood and sighed, rolling his neck and stretching his arms. "I need to check on Jack. And we still need to deal with those hellhounds. We've completely forgotten about them."

"Go and clean up first," Gwen said, guiding him toward the showers with a firm but gentle voice. "Get out of those wet clothes." Inside she was swearing, because he was right; someone had to go back out, and she was the best choice given that Ianto was injured and the others were busy.

"But what if—" he started, and Gwen cut him off.

"Don't even think about it. Tosh and Owen are taking care of Jack. He'll be fine, you'll see. And then we can give him a hard time for scaring us."

Ianto nodded, his energy clearly starting to fade. It had been a long day, and he'd been chasing after alien hellhounds only to be shot in the hand; he needed to rest, though Gwen knew how unlikely that was for any of them. But first he needed to clean up, and then he could see to Jack.

"Go," she ordered, pulling a face at him and making shooing motions with her hands. "You're still soaking wet and covered in blood. Get a shower, but keep that hand dry. I worked hard on it. Hopefully they'll be done when you're out, and maybe Jack will even be awake."

This time he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, so much like Jack that Gwen almost thought her composure might break. "Thank you, Gwen. What about the hellhounds?"

She sighed. "I'll call Rhys, maybe he can help. Or at least back me up."

Ianto frowned at that idea, and she took his good hand and squeezed. "We'll be fine. You stay here. You're injured."

"My other hand is fine," he protested. "I can still fire a gun—"

"Stay with Jack," Gwen interrupted him again. "He needs you more."

"All right," Ianto finally agreed, sounding reluctant as he turned away. "But call if you need backup. I don't think we could handle anything else going wrong tonight."

"Of course," she said. "Nothing's going to happen, they're just big ugly dogs. And Jack will be fine. I know it." She tried to keep her voice from cracking as she watched Ianto turn and head toward the showers, praying that she wasn't giving him false hope. With a deep breath, she headed down to the medical bay to check on Jack before she left.

He'd come back. He had to.

* * *

Author's Note:

Thank you again to Tamaar for cleaning this up so well! And to all who have read, reviewed, and followed it already, I do hope you continue to enjoy it. The next chapter will follow Ianto and stick with him for most of the story.


	3. Chapter Three

III. _Time moves in one direction, memory in another. ~William Gibson_

Ianto stood in a corridor by himself, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes as he concentrated on taking one breath after the other to still his nervous heart. A shower had calmed him and left him feeling more composed after being shot and covered in blood and dirt, but now he had to go back and face whatever had happened to Jack. Was Jack recovering, was he awake and laughing, or had he died, possibly forever? When he finally felt like he had himself under control, Ianto stepped into the Hub, walking quickly toward the medical bay.

Tosh and Owen were still operating on Jack, trying to remove the bullet that had pierced him in the chest, and so Ianto leaned on the railing and forced himself to watch. If Jack was dying, Ianto owed him that much, at least. He couldn't hide away as if it weren't happening. He had to be there, be strong; he refused to be a coward.

Owen finally looked up and nodded with a clear look of relief on his face. They were finished with whatever they had needed to do, and apparently it had gone well enough. After scrubbing clean and changing, they came upstairs and joined Ianto, leaving Jack hooked up to the monitors below to recover. Tosh collapsed in exhaustion onto the sofa; and Ianto immediately sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms.

"Thank you," he said, pressing a kiss to her temple, knowing it was something Jack would do if the situation were reversed. She curled into him as they both turned to Owen, who was pacing back and forth.

"Well, we got the bullet out. It nicked one of his lungs, but we were able to repair that. There was a lot of blood loss, though. And I've never seen a bullet like this, so Tosh, we're really going to need an analysis of it as soon as you can." She nodded and started to rise, but Ianto pulled her down for another minute of rest before she began.

"What's Jack's status?" he asked. "Is he going to be all right?"

Owen's mouth opened and closed a few times before he shrugged. "I don't know. I'm sorry, I just don't know. Knowing Jack, I should be saying yes, of course he will. But I've never had to operate on him before, and it was a damn strange thing to have to do when I'm used to seeing him knit back together all on his own." He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. "Maybe with the bullet out he'll start healing now. Or the trauma will kill him, and he'll revive, good as new. I don't know why neither has happened already as he's been shot before, but this time…" He trailed off with another shrug.

"This time it's different," murmured Ianto, nodding in understanding. He had sensed it almost from the moment Jack had gone down, from the way Parker Douglas had phrased his words and looked at Jack, as if the man had known exactly what he was doing and how it would play out when he had fired the gun.

"It has to be the bullet," said Owen, sounding extremely frustrated as he threw himself down into a nearby chair. "There's no other explanation."

"How could a bullet stop him from dying or getting better?" asked Tosh. There was silence all around, and this time when Tosh stood to move toward her station, Ianto didn't stop her, but squeezed her hand in support before she left. Owen stayed silent, apparently lost in thought.

"Can I see him?" Ianto finally asked.

Owen looked up from where he was sitting with his elbows on his knees, scowling at the floor in obvious frustration. He nodded somewhat absently. "Of course. He's stable for now. I've got him on fluids to help with the blood loss and antibiotics to prevent infection, as well as some pretty strong pain medication, so he won't be waking up for a while."

"Until he starts to heal," said Tosh from nearby, already running tests on the bullet.

"If he starts to heal," Owen corrected under his breath. Ianto stood, trying not to contemplate that thought as he turned toward the medical bay. He was grateful when Owen didn't follow. He needed some time alone with Jack.

Ianto pulled a chair up next to the bed where Jack lay, as still and vulnerable as Ianto had ever seen the man. It was not something he wanted to see ever again. Bad enough to watch Jack die and come back; to watch him suffer like this was almost unbearable. And knowing that he might not survive was even worse. How was it even possible?

This was Jack Harkness. He was immortal. He had died hundreds of deaths and come back from every one with that life-affirming gasp that stopped Ianto's heart each time he heard it. Something as simple as a bullet should be able to kill Jack, not when he had experienced far worse deaths. Something was wrong, but if something was wrong, then hopefully it could be fixed.

Taking Jack's hand in his own, Ianto closed his eyes and ran through the scene in his head. Parker Douglas, Time Agent from the future. Jack had done something that had obviously angered the man, something to do with his wife. Douglas had gone back in time to change it. From the man's angry, half-crazed demeanor, Ianto could only surmise that Douglas's wife had been killed, he had tried to save her, and in trying to change time for personal reasons, Parker Douglas had been sentenced to prison for twenty-five years.

Ianto was fairly sure he didn't want to know about Volag-Noc; it had obviously destroyed the man Parker Douglas had once been.

And yet, Parker Douglas had the knowledge and ability to kill Jack Harkness, the man who could not die. How had he even known about Jack's condition? He was from thousands of years in the future. Jack lived in the past. There was no way Douglas could have known.

And even if he had found out somehow, what could he have possibly done to his weapon and the bullet that could kill Jack? Or at least stop him from regenerating like he always did? Ianto had seen Jack shot several times; he had sat with Jack until the wound healed and closed, held him while he gasped back to life. Why hadn't that happened this time? Ianto hated watching Jack die and leave them, but right now he'd give anything to hear that gasp, because it meant healing and wholeness and life.

It was strange that a man _not _dying could invoke such fear, but then Jack was not a normal man.

Ianto must have sat there for quite a while, his thumb tracing circles over Jack's hand as his eyes dropped closed, until he felt a returning pressure and glanced up to see Jack stirring. Ianto gently squeezed Jack's hand to let him know he was not alone.

"Ianto?" Jack whispered, before opening his eyes and turning his head toward Ianto.

"You're awake," said Ianto, smiling as he stood and brushed some hair from Jack's face with his bandaged hand; it was a mark of how badly Jack had been injured that he did not remark on Gwen's poor wrapping.

"What happened?" asked Jack, closing his eyes again. He was obviously exhausted, and Ianto tried not to frown in worry. He was so used to Jack recovering quickly from just about anything that the fear was almost overwhelming.

"You got shot," he said. He paused, then added, "And Owen finally got to open you up to see what makes you tick."

Jack pulled a face at that, and Ianto chuckled quietly before placing a quick kiss to Jack's hand, which he still held in his own.

"What'd he find?" asked Jack, eyes still closed.

Ianto paused a moment, trying to come up with something clever and disarming, but his mind drew a blank. Instead, he debated how much to tell Jack before quickly deciding on the truth. Jack would want the truth. "He had to take out the bullet."

"Is that why I feel like complete shit?" Jack asked with a dry cough. "I've been shot before and haven't needed surgery. Did I die?"

Ianto shook his head even though Jack's eyes were closed; his silence prompted the other man to open them and gaze directly at him. "Did I die?" Jack repeated.

"No," said Ianto. "You didn't."

"But I'm not healing either, am I?" said Jack. "That's why he had to do surgery. My body didn't expel the bullet and start healing."

"No." Ianto didn't know what else to say. He'd never in his life imagined their roles to be reversed like this, for Jack to be the one lying on the table, critically injured, while Ianto stood with him and tried to explain what had happened. He had always assumed it would be him lying there—hell, there were a few times when he _had_ been lying there—and he had accepted his inevitable future for what it was: the price to pay for Torchwood, the cost of being with Jack. He knew his fate would hurt Jack—well, he suspected and secretly hoped Jack would be sad about Ianto's eventual death—but Ianto had never thought that he might have to go through this on the other side of the table. Not with Jack.

Jack sighed. "Parker Douglas. He really did know." Blue eyes flashed with pain and sorrow. "I'm sorry," he whispered, letting go of Ianto's hand to reach up and touch Ianto's cheek. "I never thought this would happen."

Tears pricked at Ianto's eyes at the look of sadness on Jack's face. He forced a smile and cupped Jack's face with his good hand. "It's not going to happen," he said. "You're going to be all right. You've lived too long to let a bastard like him end it now."

"Yeah, I would have preferred saving the world," Jack half laughed, half coughed. "Maybe from some big fire-breathing alien."

"You'll still get your chance," Ianto replied as lightly as he could manage. "Tosh is already looking into it."

"Into what?" asked Jack, sounding confused. "Fire-breathing aliens?"

Ianto almost sobbed at the unintentional humor. "No, your chance to save the world. All we can think of is that the bullet somehow stopped your ability to heal. We're hoping now that the bullet is out, it will start on its own." Ianto couldn't help but glance up at the various monitors as he spoke, and was disappointed to see that Jack's readings didn't appear any different; the man before him still looked to be on the edge of life.

"But how did he know about me? And where would Douglas get something that could do that?" murmured Jack, closing his eyes with a sigh, and Ianto thought Jack had fallen asleep until he opened them once more, bright with feeling. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Stop apologizing," Ianto admonished him, swallowing his own thick emotions yet again. "Tell me about Parker Douglas. Maybe that will help us figure this out."

"He was a Time Agent at the same time as me and John. A damn good one, too—brilliant, really. He worked on the technical side of things, more of a research and development kind of guy." Jack shook his head, wincing as he did. "I don't know what happened to him. He was a good man—decent and moral, nothing like the man we met."

"He went to prison," Ianto offered. "That obviously changed him."

"He changed before that, I think. Something snapped when his wife died." There was a long silence; Jack was not offering anything further, but Ianto felt that any information they had could help them figure out how to save Jack. While he normally would not push Jack to answer questions about his past, this was too important to let him come to in his own time.

"What happened to her?" he asked as gently as he could.

"I killed her," Jack murmured, turning his head away. Ianto squeezed his hand.

"Hey, I don't believe that. You said you were under orders."

Jack sighed and let his head flop back toward Ianto. "I was. I was under orders, and I followed them, and because of that, Samantha Douglas and a hundred others died."

A hundred people, pressing on Jack's conscience for so many years. "Was it necessary?" Ianto asked.

"For them to die? Yes. It was the research station where they were based or the entire planet they were researching. We couldn't save both. Parker refused to accept that. He went back in time to save Samantha, only to see the entire planet destroyed. Which was when I was sent back to fix it." Jack shuddered. "I had to let her die again, and Parker went to prison for what he had done in trying to save her. It was a real low point for the Time Agency, we lost a lot of credibility over it, not to mention funding and support."

"So even back then you had to make the hard decisions," said Ianto, smiling down at the remarkable man beneath him.

"And even then it was hell," Jack said, his voice cracking almost imperceptibly. "I left the Time Agency three months later. Between that mission and the memories they took, I couldn't do it anymore. I was already angry, and that mission just made it worse. I…well, I didn't want to end up like Parker, broken down by the Agency. So I went on the run, fended for myself."

"Until you ended up here and met the Doctor."

Jack nodded and let his eyes slip closed, the barest of hint of a smile ghosting across his lips. Ianto sat with him, thinking over this new information. Jack had left the Time Agency after Parker Douglas had gone to prison, and as far as Ianto was aware, Jack had not gone back to his own time once he had become immortal. So the question once again was how did Parker Douglas _know_ that Jack was immortal, and how had the disgraced Time Agent figured out a way to kill a man who couldn't die?

Jack was obviously too exhausted to talk anymore, so Ianto pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before leaving Jack to his rest. "Do you need anything?" he asked. "Something more for the pain, perhaps?"

Jack nodded so stiffly that Ianto was sure he must be suffering terribly, and yet he had not said anything the entire time they had been talking. "I'll send Owen," Ianto whispered, squeezing Jack's hand once more before he left. "And I'll be back soon."

He hurried upstairs to find that Gwen had returned and was standing with the others around Tosh's computer, whispering in low tones. He cleared his throat to get their attention.

"I think Jack could use some more medication," he told Owen, who immediately turned and hurried down the steps.

"On it," he replied, and Ianto could hear the doctor moving around the medical bay, speaking softly to Jack.

"How is he doing?" asked Gwen, glancing toward the medical bay as if she wanted to follow Owen.

"He's still not healing," Ianto replied.

"Did he say anything?" asked Tosh. "Anything that might help us?" Ianto shrugged, his good hand going to his pocket so the others couldn't see him shaking.

"A bit, though nothing quite as useful as I'd hoped. Have you found anything with the bullet?"

"Not yet." Tosh sounded extremely frustrated. "In spite of its odd design, everything appears fairly normal, and the unusual only thing I've managed to isolate is a bit of radiation. Do you remember anything about the weapon it came from?"

"It shot me," Ianto replied dryly, holding up his still over-bandaged hand and smiling wryly at Gwen.

"You should let Owen look at it now," she admonished him.

"I will," he said. "Eventually. Why did you ask about the weapon?"

"Because we thought maybe while Tosh and Owen worked on the bullet, you and I could go through the archives and try to find a match, or at least something similar," said Gwen. "Anything to give us a clue."

"Anything to give us a clue," Ianto repeated. He sighed. "Right. Good idea. A clue and a distraction. I'll go make some coffee."

As he moved toward the coffee machine, he could feel their eyes on his back. They were worried, and not just about Jack, but about him now if the look of sympathetic pity he had seen in their eyes was anything to go on. He needed to stay strong, though, because losing Jack would devastate them all, and Ianto wasn't going to let that happen if he could do anything to stop it.

Not yet, not now.

* * *

Author's Note:

Another tremendous thank you to Tamaar for looking this over and enduring so many emails from me about this story. I really owe you cupcakes.


	4. Chapter Four

IV. _You can never plan the future by the past. ~Edmund Burke_

Ianto had spent hours silently searching through the archives with Gwen, until it was past midnight and both of them were starting to nod off in their chairs. When his hand started throbbing, Ianto jerked awake from dark half-dreams with a sharp hiss, which caused Gwen to shake herself and glance over.

"Ianto?" she asked, rubbing her eyes. "Are you all right?"

"Medication is wearing off," he muttered as he stood and stretched muscles stiff from sitting for too long. "I need to go upstairs and see Owen before I'm useless down here. Morphine and coffee, sounds perfect."

Gwen smiled in sympathy. "Right. I'll come with you, get some fresh air." Ianto quirked an eyebrow, and she rolled her eyes at him in return, since the Hub was hardly the ideal for fresh air. "Well, fresher than down here, at any rate. Come on. We can check on Jack as well."

They returned to the main section of the Hub only to find Tosh dozing on her arms at her computer. Gwen bit back a yawn as she hurried toward the medical bay. Ianto gently shook Tosh awake, letting Gwen have a moment alone with Jack even though he wanted to hurry down there just as badly.

"Go home," he told Tosh. "It's no good staying up all night only to fall asleep on your work."

Tosh protested, but then Owen appeared, pushing Gwen out of the medical bay over her whispered protests. "Everyone go, I'll stay," he said. "You lot need sleep, but I don't, so I'll keep an eye on Jack." Now it was Ianto's turn to object. "You too, Ianto. He's sleeping now anyway. I'll call you if anything changes."

Ianto nodded, though he had no intention of leaving. He grabbed his coat and walked with Gwen and Tosh to the car park, then begged off, telling them he had forgotten his keys. Tosh gave him a look that clearly said she didn't believe him; he countered it with kiss pressed to her cheek and whispered, "I'll be fine. I'll sleep here, I promise."

She threw her arms around him and held on tight; he was surprised by the sudden burst of affection, but they both probably needed it. As a team, they turned to one another when one of them was injured, yet this was something new; they had never had to worry about Jack before, trusting in his miraculous ability to heal and revive. That it might not happen one day had always been one of Ianto's biggest fears, but Jack had assured him each and every time that he would always come back.

Why was this time different?

"We'll figure it out," Tosh whispered, as if she were reading his mind. "I'll be back in a few hours, and we'll figure it out."

"I know," he said, untangling himself from the embrace and gently pushing Tosh toward her car. "Get some rest so we can do it clear-headed."

"You too, Ianto," she said, and he nodded.

"I will, I promise." He watched her leave before he slowly headed back into the Hub, where he was met by Owen's skeptical gaze and caustic comments.

"And here I thought I'd have the place to myself," he said, sitting on the sofa reading a magazine.

"My hand is a bit sore," said Ianto, and Owen jumped up immediately, the sarcasm replaced by fast concern.

"Shit, let me see. I should have looked at it hours ago."

"It didn't hurt hours ago," Ianto replied, and Owen snorted in the same way he had when he was still alive. It made Ianto feel better, somehow, every time the doctor did something like that; it was as if Owen hadn't really changed.

They went down to the medical bay. Ianto moved toward Jack, asleep on the bed, hooked up to monitors that beeped and whirred and showed no change in his condition. He hadn't died, yet he clearly wasn't healing. Ianto hoped they didn't wake him, because Jack looked terrible.

He did not look like he was going to survive.

Ianto felt a gentle hand on his elbow guiding him away.

"He'll come out of it, mate," Owen said, moving Ianto toward a chair. "We're not going to lose him."

Ianto didn't trust himself to speak and merely nodded his thanks for Owen's words. He wanted to believe them, he really did, but every time Jack died Ianto feared this, and now it was really happening. He wasn't sure how he would keep himself together to help; all he wanted to do was fly apart at the seams.

They couldn't lose Jack. Ianto couldn't imagine a Torchwood without Jack Harkness: his leadership, his brash heroics, his shameless flirting. Jack had given his life to make Torchwood what it was, and though they had survived the months he had been away with the Doctor, it had been hard, and it had only felt right when Jack had returned.

More importantly, Ianto couldn't imagine his _life_ without Jack. He couldn't articulate why, because it was hard for either of them to really say what it was that they had between them, but Ianto knew that whatever it was, it was something he didn't want to lose. They worked together, yes, but they also ate, slept, shagged, and even showered together quite a bit. Hell, they practically lived with one another half the time, whether it was at Ianto's flat or in Jack's room at the Hub. It was quite possibly an unhealthy dependence at times, but one that neither of them would ever admit to or give up. Jack was his rock to rail against, an anchor that kept him grounded when Torchwood was sometimes too much to bear. And though he constantly questioned and often doubted it, Ianto knew deep down that his place in Jack's life was similar.

Yet they had both accepted without saying that his place in Jack's life was also finite and fleeting and would end one day, sooner rather than later. It was not supposed to be the other way around, not this way, and not so soon. Ianto would rather see Jack run again, see him return to the stars, knowing he was still out there somewhere even if he had chosen to leave; at least he would still be alive. Ianto had always feared being left behind again, but not like this; this was supposed to be impossible.

"Ianto." Owen's voice pulled him out of his bleak contemplation, and he glanced up to find that Owen had finished with his ministrations. The bulky gauze that Gwen had wrapped around his injured hand earlier in the night was gone, replaced by a simpler wrap that allowed him to actually move his fingers. The pain was receding as well, and Ianto flexed his hand, nodding his gratitude to Owen.

"Thank you," he said quietly, still not meeting the doctor's eyes, but watching Jack instead: the rise and fall of the other man's chest, the flutter of his eyelids, the lights of the monitor above him.

"He's not going to leave us, Ianto," said Owen. Ianto heard the doubt in the doctor's voice, though it was followed by grim determination. "We won't let that happen."

Ianto stood and took a deep breath before facing the doctor. "Did you know he has a DNR order on file?" he asked, the thought appearing from almost nowhere before he could stop it. "Do not resuscitate…or revive."

Owen looked surprised. "No, I didn't know that. I'm his doctor, how come I didn't know?"

"He kept it private." Ianto shrugged. "Like most things. He told me about it once after a particularly difficult death. He's obviously never had to use it and never intended to." The implication was apparently clear, because Owen bristled.

"That's not what I meant when I said we won't let him die," he started, and Ianto, too exhausted to argue, waved him off.

"I know you didn't," he replied. "But I thought you should know, in case it comes to that."

"So no need to find another Risen Mitten," Owen muttered. "Or a boot or belt or something similar."

Ianto let his head fall as he laughed through his nose. "No, nothing like that. I doubt we could, and he wouldn't want that. You know he wouldn't want it." He gave Owen a very pointed look that the other man couldn't hold for long.

"I suppose," Owen admitted. "Look…I may not be alive, strictly speaking, but I am glad to be sticking around a bit longer, if only to look after you lot."

"We're glad you are too, Owen," Ianto replied with sincere honestly. "I know it's hard."

"It's bollocks," Owen agreed. "But I also know what's out there, after. And Jack knows too. Do you really think that's what he would want, when he could have just a bit more time here, with us?" He paused and tried to catch Ianto's eye, but Ianto refused to meet his gaze. "With you?"

Ianto watched Jack and thought about those rare moments when Jack had let his guard down and allowed Ianto to glimpse the pain and heartbreak immortality had caused him. It was something Ianto wished he could take onto himself every time, the unbearable losses that Jack had suffered over the years, of not being able to die while everyone around him, everyone he cared for and loved, passed on and left him alone once more. It was incomprehensible, the eternity of pain that Jack would live through. Ianto sighed.

"I don't know. Maybe not now, not this way, but one day, yes. It is what he would want. And if this turns out to be that time, we have to respect that."

Owen crossed his arms over his chest and looked Ianto directly in the eye. "Could you do that, Ianto? Could you let him go if there was a chance to have more time?"

There was so much unsaid in the doctor's questions, but Ianto chose to ignore it. Now was not the time. Right then he felt almost ready to collapse, both physically and emotionally. So he simply closed his eyes against whatever he saw in Owen's face and nodded.

"I may not have a choice," he whispered, then turned and left the medical bay. He would sleep in Jack's bed that night, though he would sleep alone, to begin again in the morning. They would try to help Jack as best as they could, yet if they could not, Ianto would have to accept something he was not prepared to accept at all.

But he would, for Jack.

* * *

Though he'd gone to bed quite late, Ianto slept restlessly and finally rose early, giving up on any more attempts to fall back asleep when he knew he wouldn't. It didn't feel right, sleeping in Jack's bed when Jack was upstairs fighting for his life. Logically, Ianto knew he needed the rest to be in top form; emotionally, he couldn't stand lying in the dark alone. So he showered and dressed in clean clothes, leaving his tie loose and forgoing the jacket, made himself some coffee, and hurried to the medical bay to sit with Jack and doze if he needed to before Gwen and Tosh came in.

Owen was there, fiddling with some sort of medical gadget, and he merely raised his eyebrows as Ianto came down the stairs, a large stack of files under his arm. Ianto nodded and stood next to Jack, glancing up at the monitors in the hope that something had changed, that Jack was getting better.

It looked the same to him, and Jack looked just as pale and worn out as he had hours earlier, if not more so. A silent question to Owen was answered with a shake of the doctor's head.

"Sorry, there's been no change," he said. He stood and stretched; apparently it was a habit not easily given up even though Owen couldn't feel any tension in his muscles. "But since you're up and about so early, I'm going up to Tosh's station to poke around that bullet some more."

He left without a word, and Ianto was once again grateful to have his own time with Jack. He pulled up a chair, set his coffee on a nearby tray, and began going through the files, searching for any reference to the bullet or the gun that might help them.

He caught himself glancing at Jack far more often than at his files, however, and finally Ianto sighed, put them away, and let his head fall back. Deep down, he knew the answer wasn't in the archives. Parker Douglas had come from the future—a future Jack hadn't lived because he'd been traveling and then trapped in the past. The chances of something having come through the Rift that was even remotely similar to what Douglas had used to hurt Jack were infinitesimal.

The answer was not in the past, but in the future.

Ianto would have drifted off if it hadn't been for a movement beside him. He almost startled himself out of his chair, earning a weak chuckle from Jack.

"I thought I smelled coffee," Jack said, a half smile on his face as he glanced over to where Ianto was already pulling the chair closer to the bed.

"I was hoping it would keep me awake," Ianto grumbled. "Obviously I need something stronger."

"Or maybe you need some sleep," Jack pointed out.

"I had a bit," Ianto replied evasively. "How are you feeling?"

Jack shook his head and laughed a bit hollowly. "Funny enough, I still feel like shit. And it's been a long time since I went to sleep and didn't wake up feeling better."

"Now you know what a hangover is like for the rest of us," Ianto murmured, hoping to keep the mood light. And it must have worked, for Jack laughed again.

"Oh, I've had hangovers that were far worse than this, believe me." He coughed again. "Though I am not really enjoying this too-weak-to-even-move business. Have you found anything?"

Ianto blew out a breath and hung his head. "No, not yet," he said. "Tosh and Owen have been working on the bullet—Owen is looking at it again right now—and Gwen and I tried tracking down the gun through the archives, but we didn't have any luck."

"I'm not surprised," said Jack. He tried to maneuver himself into a sitting position, but Ianto reached out to hold him back. Jack rolled his eyes. "Believe it or not, sometimes I hate being flat on my back, even if you are pushing me down. Can you at least get me some more pillows so I can be more comfortable?"

Ianto couldn't help but smile at Jack's impatience; he had no doubt the man would prove to be a miserable patient, given how long it had been since Jack had had to deal with any prolonged bed rest. He helped prop Jack up to a half-sitting position, and Jack closed his eyes with a smile.

"Much better. Easier to breathe. I'm not surprised you didn't find anything on the gun, not if it's from the future."

"I know," Ianto replied with a shrug. "But we had to try."

"Anything on the bullet?" Jack asked. "Anything at all?"

Ianto frowned, trying to remember what Tosh had said before she'd gone home. "Tosh picked up a bit of radiation, but that wouldn't affect you, would it? Just like you don't really get sick."

"I don't know. What kind of radiation was it?" asked Jack. Ianto wasn't sure and was just about to call Owen when the doctor appeared on the stairs and joined them.

"Tosh said it was chronon radiation," said Owen. "Which would make sense if Douglas time-traveled or came through the Rift. He would have picked it up then."

"Right," said Jack. "Did you pick up anything unusual from me, though? In terms of the chronon radiation?"

Owen looked skeptical. "You've always got a tad of it going on. Something to do with that immortality trick of yours, you said once."

"Did you check him, though?" asked Ianto. "Maybe it has something to do with Jack not healing."

"Bollocks," Owen muttered under his breath. He rummaged around in a drawer before running a hand-held scanner over Jack. He swore again as he redid it.

"Yep, there it is. Your chronon levels are lower than usual, Jack." Owen didn't glance at Jack but at Ianto as he continued. "Sorry I missed it."

"We don't know what it means," said Ianto. "Or if it has anything to do with this."

"I doubt it's a coincidence," said Jack.

"Well, I don't know nearly enough about it to say one way or another," said Owen. "But we do know someone who might." He glanced at Ianto, who sensed he should already be calling this person, only his brain was a bit sluggish at that moment, and he glanced at Jack for the answer.

Jack was grinning broadly in spite of his weak condition. "Martha Jones," he said, nodding in agreement. "Voice of a nightingale."

Ianto practically ran upstairs to make the call.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Another thank you to Tamaar for her quick and wonderful work! And to everyone who has read and reviewed this, as well. I'll try to get Martha's chapter up soon!


	5. Chapter Five

V. _Time, whose tooth gnaws away everything else, is powerless against truth. ~Thomas Huxley_

"Martha Jones speaking."

Ianto took a deep breath to steady his shaking hands. "Martha, hello. It's Ianto Jones from Torchwood Three."

"Ianto!" she exclaimed. "It's so good to hear from you." He could almost sense the yawn in her voice. "Although it is awfully early."

"UNIT letting you sleep in these days?" he teased, unable to resist in spite of the reason for his call. He had taken to Martha from the start, and liked to think they were friends in their own right, not only through Jack.

"As a matter of fact, no. I was about to get up. I'm surprised you're calling so early, though. What's wrong?"

Of course she would sense that something was wrong. Why else would he be calling before dawn? He hesitated before continuing, and she picked up on that immediately as well.

"Ianto? What's happened? Who's hurt?"

Her question, so perfectly on the mark, wrenched at Ianto's heart. "It's Jack," he managed to say, before clearing his throat to continue. He was tired and emotional, but he had to set that aside. Jack needed him, and he needed Martha.

"What about Jack?" asked Martha. "He hasn't run off again, has he? Because if he has, I will—"

"No, no, it's nothing like that." Ianto couldn't help but laugh at the protectiveness he heard in her voice. He certainly knew who to call if Jack did ever leave unexpectedly with the Doctor again. "He was shot last night, but there appears to be something that's stopped him from healing."

"He didn't die and revive?" asked Martha, knowing Jack's extremely complicated medical history quite well. She had not only traveled with him and the Doctor, after all, but had spent several weeks with them at the Hub after Owen had died and come back to his own peculiar half-life.

"No, he didn't die from the gunshot wound, but he's not pulling out of it, either." Ianto paused and closed his eyes, lowering his voice because he hated saying it out loud. "It doesn't look good."

There was silence on the other end of the line. "What makes you think he won't come back if he dies?"

"Martha, it's been twelve hours, and his body hasn't shown any sign at all of healing. Normally a gunshot wound, even a nonfatal one, would have closed up by now. Instead he's lying in bed and growing weaker by the hour."

"You still didn't answer my question, Ianto," she said, her voice both reproachful and professional. "Why do you think he won't come back?"

Ianto ran a hand through his hair as he started pacing. "Because the man who shot him was a pissed off Time Agent from the future who knew that Jack was immortal, yet he said he could kill Jack anyway. My gut tells me this man was telling the truth, and that it has something to do with his weapon."

Again there was silence on the phone. "Okay. That seems plausible, however improbable. What have you found out about the weapon?" She sounded calm and collected, and Ianto blessed her patience, because he would have come unglued if she were panicking.

"There was no trace of the gun in the archives," he replied, reigning in his disappointment that they hadn't found the solution there. "And the only thing Tosh could tell us about the bullet that Owen pulled out of Jack was that it was covered in chronon radiation."

"Which is not unusual for time travel," Martha pointed out. "I've still got lingering traces of it myself."

"And Jack always has a certain amount of it. Apparently it has something to do with how he revives, but his levels are much lower than usual, according to Owen."

"So what are you thinking?" asked Martha. Ianto could almost hear her thinking out loud over the phone as she pondered what he had told her and tried to make sense of it.

"We've got nothing, Martha." Ianto was trying not to snap at her, but his frustration was getting the better of him. He paused and collected himself before continuing. "He's always said that he'll come back, no matter what happens. He's suffered some pretty horrific deaths, so I don't know how a simple bullet would do this, could stop him from healing and probably reviving as well."

"Maybe it wasn't the bullet itself, but something in the bullet," suggested Martha. "Is Owen there? Can I talk to him?"

"Of course," said Ianto, feeling relieved because this was out of his area of expertise. He ran up to the railing at the medical bay and motioned to Owen, who flew up the stairs to take the phone before stalking off around the Hub, medical babble flying from his lips.

Ianto leaned on the railing and looked down at Jack, lying in bed with his eyes closed as the monitors beeped and whirred around him. Normally Ianto quite enjoyed watching Jack sleep, as it was a rare glimpse at a calm, quiet side of the man who normally bounded around the Hub with so much energy. Even after a rough night with the Rift, or recovering from a gruesome death, Jack looked peaceful in his sleep, as if he too were enjoying the respite from simply being Jack. Yet now he lay in the medical bay instead of his bed (or Ianto's), and there was no aura of peace around him, only sickness and death. And fear—so much fear.

Or perhaps Ianto was projecting that last. Jack had died enough times that he couldn't possibly be scared of dying any longer; Jack had once said that coming back was actually more painful. Ianto knew there were times when Jack longed for a mortal life and the ability to grow old and die as a normal human being, yet if this were to be Jack's final passing, maybe he was frightened; maybe he wasn't ready to die, or didn't want to go.

_Not now. Not yet. _Jack had said those words right before losing consciousness in the park. What did they really mean? Did he want to live, even when he had longed to be fixed and mortal for so long? Did he want to stay and continue the life he'd found with Torchwood, and maybe even with Ianto? How could Ianto even dare to hope such a thing? He knew Jack, knew how much Jack had suffered over the years. Jack was immortal, and yet he had placed a do not resuscitate order in his file on the miniscule chance that one day he might finally be allowed to die and pass on. How could Ianto want anything different for such a tortured man?

Again, he was probably projecting, because Ianto himself wasn't ready to die. Oh, he knew he would one day, and it would be sooner rather than later. Torchwood agents almost always died young. Yet he wasn't ready, not now, not yet. It wasn't Torchwood, it wasn't aliens, and it wasn't saving the world that kept him clinging to life, hoping for as much time as possible. Yes, he'd come to cherish the work and the others who surrounded him day and night at the Hub, but most importantly, it was Jack. He did not want to leave Jack. It was both selfish and not: he knew his death would one day hurt Jack and leave him alone once more, and Ianto didn't want to do that to the man. Yet more than that wanted to stay with Jack for as long as he could, though he would never admit why, and he knew the other man would never say anything either, which was why Ianto wasn't quite sure what Jack would truly want.

With a sigh, Ianto let his head fall to his chest and tried to still his racing thoughts. He lost track of time as he stood clasping shaking hands, trying not to give into futile tears. He was startled when Owen returned to stand next to him and glanced up at the doctor, desperately hoping for answers.

"What did Martha say?"

Owen rolled his eyes. "An unbelievable amount of technobabble I should have had Tosh around to translate. But we're thinking the bullet did something to Jack to stop his body's normal restorative properties."

"Right." Ianto raised his eyebrows. "That seems obvious, just a fancy way of saying it. The question is _what_ did it do, and _how _do we undo it?"

"Martha explained a bit more about Jack's healing ability," said Owen. "It has to do with time itself. He's got a bit of it inside him, apparently, keeping him alive forever. The time vortex, she called it. I can't wrap my mind around time being quite that tangible, but there it is. The time vortex within him somehow brings him back every time he dies. Time is forever, and so is Jack." He looked frustrated over his lack of understanding, and Ianto nodded in sympathy, because it didn't make any sense to him either.

"Go on."

"We're thinking either the bullet itself somehow stopped the bits of time within him from working the way they are supposed to, or released something that's doing the same. Possibly by destroying those bits of time, sort of like a virus attacking healthy cells."

Ianto glanced down at Jack and frowned. "It would explain why his radiation levels are lower, and why he can't heal himself, wouldn't it?"

"Exactly. If something is destroying the stuff inside him that keeps him alive and able to revive, then of course he won't be able to heal. Martha said to run a scan every so often to see if his chronon levels keep going down, which might give us a clue to what's doing this."

"Such as?" asked Ianto.

"Don't know," said Owen. He turned and leaned against the railing to face Ianto. "I haven't found evidence of any sort of alien viruses or nanotechnology, but it could be that my equipment simply can't detect that sort of thing. It's certainly way beyond our technology if that crazy arsehole picked it up in the future."

Ianto was silent as he tried to sort through the barrage of information in his head and what it meant for Jack.

"So even if we're not sure what's causing it, what can we do to stop it?" he asked. "To stop Jack from losing the energy that keeps him alive?"

Owen's frustration practically radiated off of him in waves. "I'll keep running scans and tests until I find something that explains it so Tosh can find a way to fix it. I suggested the cryofreeze as a last resort, but Martha didn't think it would work. We can freeze Jack's body, but not the time vortex within him. You can't stop time with a bit of cold air." He shrugged, at a loss. "She said she'd do some research at UNIT, but she's in Madrid at the moment and can't get away until at least the day after tomorrow."

Ianto glanced down at Jack to find he was awake and staring up at them with a small half-grin on his face.

"I told her she should've stayed with us. We're not nearly so hard about vacation days as UNIT."

Owen and Ianto snorted in unison, which made Jack start laughing. It was good to see him laugh, even if it was hardly the laugh they were used to and ended in a coughing fit. Jack struggled to his half-sitting position again and eyed them. "Do I have to crane my neck to talk to you, or will at least one of you come down here and tell me what she said?"

Owen went to talk to Jack while Ianto stayed where he was, still thinking. Something was destroying the time vortex within Jack that kept him alive forever. It seemed simple enough to try to identify what it was and stop it, and yet at the same time utterly impossible given that they were working with such limited technology. And if they did not fully understand how it was that Jack lived forever, how were they to find a way of fixing it? Would Jack want them to if it meant an eternity of dying and reviving?

As Ianto considered the answers, the cog door opened, and Gwen and Tosh came through together, talking quietly. Tosh was carrying a large bag of breakfast pastries, which she set down on the coffee table before enveloping Ianto with a wordless hug. Gwen nodded at him and went straight down to the medical bay to see Jack. Ianto watched her take Jack's hand and offer what he thought was a rather forced smile. He looked away and focused on Tosh.

"How is he?" asked Tosh, guiding him toward the sofa. He replied with a shrug.

"About the same—no better, perhaps a bit weaker. We talked to Martha Jones to see if she had any ideas." Tosh rummaged in the bag and pulled out his favorite muffin, practically pushing him to sit down.

"You haven't eaten, have you?" she asked. When he shook his head, she forced it into his hand. "Did you sleep at all?" He nodded this time; he hadn't slept much, but it was enough to get by and enough that he didn't feel guilty lying to her. "All right then, what did Martha say?"

"Well, last night you said something about the bullet giving off chronon radiation. It has to do with time. Jack always has a bit of it hanging around him, but Owen scanned him, and his levels are lower than usual."

"So again—what did Martha say?" said Tosh, taking out a muffin of her own as she sat next to Ianto. He shook his head at his lapse.

"Sorry, I was getting to it. She said something about how Jack has bits of time in him that keep him alive. The bullet probably interfered with that somehow, but we're not sure how."

"If we find out how, can we stop it?"

"I don't know," said Ianto. "It's likely quite advanced." He heard the resignation in his voice and hated it, but it didn't look good. They worked with a rift in space-time, but that didn't mean they knew the first thing about space or time, or how to fix a man who sometimes defied the laws of both.

"So am I," Tosh said, sounding more confident than she looked. "If we can figure out what's causing it, then I can come up with something to stop it."

"What if it's biological?" asked Ianto, and Tosh frowned.

"Well, then I'll need a bit more help from Owen, won't I?" she replied, obviously trying to stay positive. Ianto smiled at her and patted her leg.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"Don't thank me yet." She reached for his hand and clasped it in her own with a gentle squeeze. "But I'll do everything I can, Ianto. I promise."

Owen joined them then. "Well, here's a starting point then: his radiation levels are still dropping."

Tosh looked between Owen and Ianto, who was staring at the doctor as he tried to understand what that might mean. Tosh asked for him.

"So what does that tell you?" she asked.

Owen looked longingly at her muffin before throwing himself down in a nearby chair and putting his elbows on his knees.

"Jack's immortality is a direct result of having tiny bits of this so-called time vortex literally woven into his cells. That's why he's always had a steady level of chronon radiation. Now those levels are falling."

"Which means?" pressed Ianto, knowing he sounded impatient but wanting Owen to get on with it.

"I'd say the fact that his levels are dropping confirms Martha's theory that the bullet itself contained something—biological, chemical, mechanical, I don't know—that is destroying the bits of time within him. And when it's gone, so is he."

"Why wouldn't he become mortal?" asked Ianto, his voice sharp as confusion and hope warred within him.

"I don't know!" Owen replied with great frustration evident in his bearing as he waved his hands in the air. "Martha might as well have been speaking another language at times, but I think what it boils down to is that Jack's entire being is tied to this thing now, and draining it is a bit like draining his blood."

"You mean, he really will die?" asked Tosh. Ianto couldn't speak. Somehow he had hoped Martha would have the answer, not even worse news. He had not wanted his deepest fears confirmed.

"Yes," said Owen softly. "And because there will be no more time vortex swirling through him, he won't come back from it either."

"Then we have to find whatever it is that is doing this and stop it," said Tosh. She jumped up and headed toward her station.

Owen sighed and followed. "Your guess is as good as mine, Tosh. I've never seen anything like it before. It's from the future."

"That's not going to stop us from finding the answers." Ianto heard her determination as he set his muffin down on the table. He stomach had begun to twist at Owen's words, and now he was no longer hungry. Jack was actually dying…and he wouldn't come back to them when he did unless they figured out a way to stop the terrible changes within him.

In the back of his mind, Ianto wondered if Jack wanted them to try, or if Jack's wish to be mortal again would come true in the most final way possible.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Thank you so much to Tamaar for working her magic once again! Martha had originally planned on coming to Cardiff in the first drafts of this story, but was unable to get out of her UNIT obligations. However, several other characters will be making special appearances very soon. Hold on to your seats. The next chapter is a bit longer and may require a tissue, but I'd like to think I have some surprises in store after that. Thank you for all the reviews, they are so encouraging and keep us writers going!


	6. Chapter Six

VI. _The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time. ~ Mark Twain_

The day was spent alternating between sitting with Jack, hovering around Tosh and Owen, and trying to avoid Gwen. Ianto hated thinking of the last in such a way, but that was the truth of it. Gwen was not taking Jack's situation well, and Ianto was not taking her well. Enough that when a Weevil needed sorting in Roath, Ianto went out with Tosh while Owen continued working on some sort of solution.

When they returned, Gwen was still sitting with Jack, even though he appeared to be asleep. Ianto sighed and went to clean up. Although his hand was throbbing after having to manhandle the Weevil, he did not want to go down there and disturb them. Or maybe he didn't want to see Jack. No, that wasn't true, he would stay by Jack's side every hour if it were possible. Yet this was Torchwood, so it wasn't really an option. And he was who he was, which was a man in confused denial. He let Gwen sit with Jack when he knew he should be there, but couldn't bring himself to it.

Gwen exhorted Tosh and Owen to find something, anything that could save Jack. At one point even Tosh snapped at her, which was another reason Ianto had taken her out on the Weevil call. Yet every time Gwen said something, Ianto felt a small part of himself question the effort.

Did Jack want them to do anything and everything they could, working themselves to the bone to save him? Should he just ask? Ianto wasn't sure of anything anymore, considering that one of his core beliefs—that Jack would never die—was unraveling around them. So he settled into a chair by the sofa, rested his elbows on his knees and let his head fall forward, stretching his neck while his hand continued to throb.

How long he stayed like that, breathing deeply through his uncertainty and discomfort, Ianto wasn't sure; he might have even dozed off. Then Gwen was squatting next to him, placing a gentle hand on his knee.

"Jack wants to see you," she said quietly. Ianto glanced at her without speaking. She looked tired, worried, and upset. He laid a hand on hers and squeezed it before rising.

"Do you want me to order some dinner?" she asked. "It's about that time."

"That would be great," Ianto replied, standing and rolling his shoulders. "Thank you." He turned to head downstairs and see Jack, but she stopped him.

"He's going to be all right, isn't he?" she asked with a sideways glance at the computer where Tosh and Owen were still working side by side. "I mean, he's not going to die…he'll come back, right? Like he always does?"

Ianto let his eyes close before opening them to meet her wide-eyed gaze. He was nothing but honest; why spare her now if he could not spare her later? "I don't know, Gwen. I really don't. It doesn't look good, does it?"

She bit her lip as she nodded once in silent acknowledgement of the truth. Ianto couldn't even offer her a smile before he turned away and went downstairs.

He sat with Jack, and later, they all ate with him, hoping to keep everyone's spirits up, though Jack fell asleep early on. They continued to eat in silence until it was too much to bear and they all fled. Ianto didn't even bother going down to Jack's bunk that night, and no one told him to go home, either. He kipped on the sofa for a few hours before he couldn't stand it any longer. After checking on Jack, he went to the archives, buried himself in weaponry research, and eventually dozed off, only to find Owen shaking him awake, telling him the girls were back with breakfast.

It was another day of searching for answers while trying to keep up with the everyday running of Torchwood. Martha checked in, but could offer no more than she already had. Owen continued to monitor Jack's condition, but Jack was growing weaker, and there seemed to be nothing the doctor could do to help except ease his discomfort. Tosh continued to work on the bullet while Gwen continued to sit with Jack.

Ianto fielded several of Jack's calls, did some of the paperwork collecting on Jack's desk, made sure everyone had coffee, and generally tried to carry on without letting his thoughts overwhelm him. He wasn't avoiding Jack, not exactly, but soon enough Gwen came and found him in the archives, still searching for answers, and offered to get dinner while Ianto went to see Jack.

"He's asking for you again," she said. "He thinks you're avoiding him." She paused. "Are you?"

Ianto shook his head and went down to the medical bay. He did not want to talk to Gwen about it; in fact, he'd rather talk to Jack, and Jack was the one he was apparently avoiding.

Jack was sitting up, though he looked barely able to do so. His face was pale, with dark circles under his eyes, and he looked smaller, as if whatever was happening to him was reducing his strength, mind and body. And he seemed sad, staring into the distance when Ianto approached, eyes crinkled with pain.

"Jack?" he asked. "Is everything okay? Do you need anything?"

Jack turned and smiled at him, and Ianto was amazed at the change in his persona: open and happy and relaxed, he beckoned Ianto closer with his index finger.

"I need you, stranger," he said with the cheekiest grin Ianto had seen since Jack had been shot. Ianto graced the other man with a slow roll of his eyes, knowing Jack would delight in it.

Jack laughed and reached out for his hand, pulling Ianto closer, though his grip was weaker than normal. "I'm serious. I missed you." He paused as he massaged gentle circles over the wrap on Ianto's hand. "Gwen means her best, but she's not taking this well."

"No, she's not. But that's Gwen. She cares about you. We all do."

"How are you?" Jack asked. "I heard you and Owen went out earlier?"

"Just a retrieval, and not even a scratch. I think he needed the break from Gwen hanging around down here so much. It was getting fairly tense, if you hadn't noticed."

Jack nodded with a lopsided grin on his face. "So you're doing all right?"

"I wasn't the one who was shot," Ianto pointed out.

"How's your hand?" Jack asked.

"Hurts like hell."

Jack dropped Ianto's hand and pointed away. "Take something for it. Now."

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "Anticipating me being here a while?" he asked as he moved toward the medicine cabinet.

"Yes, I am. I want to talk to you."

Ianto hesitated at the sound in Jack's voice: serious in a way that almost worried him, because Ianto could guess what Jack wanted to talk about. Yet talking about it would make it real, and Ianto wanted to keep working to try to figure this out before it was too late. He didn't want to waste time talking about it. That's not what they did; they didn't _talk_.

He punched in the code to the medicine locker and took out two painkillers. They were the same ones Owen had given him earlier, and though he was tempted to take a third, he knew the doctor would not approve. Besides, he needed his wits about him for whatever Jack wanted to talk about. Swallowing the pills dry, he went back to where Jack was watching him, his normally bright blue eyes tired but intense.

"Do you need anything?" Ianto asked as he pulled up the chair Gwen had used for so much of the day. Jack shook his head and held up his arm, indicating the IV running into his forearm. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?" Jack said he was fine, before he reached out and pulled Ianto's hand into his own once more.

"I asked you before, but you didn't answer, so I'll ask again. How are you?"

Ianto searched Jack's face and knew he wouldn't get away with lying, so he sighed and glanced away. "I'm doing the best I can. That's all I can do."

Jack seemed to think about Ianto's answer. "I'm sorry this happened," he said. "I know how hard it is to watch someone…well, you know. I hate putting you through this."

Ianto whipped his head around to stare incredulously at Jack's very serious face. "You're sorry? Jack, you have nothing to apologize for. I'm sorry you were shot. I'm sorry I couldn't do anything to stop it, or anything to help you. I'm sorry I'm just sitting here, wishing you were better and not knowing what I can do, what any of us can do to stop this—"

"Shh," Jack said softly, squeezing his hand. "Don't get worked up. It's not your fault in any way. You've done so much to keep things running around here, to figure this out. Thank you."

Ianto let his head fall but stifled a groan, because Jack shouldn't be thanking him, it wasn't enough. He wasn't doing anything that made him feel useful, not like Tosh or Owen or even Gwen. He was just fretting and letting his thoughts run away with him, not to mention his resentments and insecurities. There was one thing, however, he needed to know more than anything, in order to accept that what they were doing was right.

"Jack," he started, then hesitated. He took a deep breath and plunged on. "I told Owen about your DNR. I need to know…are we doing the right thing? Do you want us to find the answer?"

Jack's eyes widened in what appeared to be genuine surprise. He tugged on Ianto's hand and pulled him closer, so that Ianto propped a hip on the bed, half-sitting and half-standing. "Yes," Jack said forcefully. "I want you to find the answer. I may not want to be immortal, but I don't want to die. Not now, not yet. Not if I have a choice between fighting and giving up."

There it was again, that same phrase Jack had used in the park when he'd been shot. It was all Ianto could do to stop a sob from escaping in relief. Jack raised a hand to Ianto's cheek and caressed it with a tenderness that was rare outside of quiet moments shared alone and in private.

"I want to be with you, Ianto. I want to stay with them." He gestured up toward the Hub and the others. "I like this time, this life, and I want to enjoy it a bit longer before I have to give it up."

Ianto was shocked. Jack had come back from his travels with the Doctor to them, and he had struggled to believe Jack's words then. A part of him still suspected that Jack's heart remained in the stars and that he would leap at the chance to return. Or, given his already long life, Jack would gladly embrace mortality when it meant the end of his endless suffering.

Only now, Jack was professing neither: he wanted to stay on Earth, with Ianto, with Torchwood. But at what cost?

"Okay then," Ianto began again. "What are you willing to sacrifice? What if we find what's doing this to you and stop it, but in order to survive, you remain immortal? Or like Owen?"

Jack sighed and turned away. He was quiet for so long that Ianto was fairly sure he had the answer, but Jack surprised him.

"The Doctor asked me, when we ended up at the end of the universe, if I wanted to die. And I told him I didn't know." He turned bright blue eyes back to Ianto. "And I'll tell you the same thing: I don't know. I don't want to die now, and I will fight it to the end with you, but if I do…I don't know if I can keep coming back over and over, knowing I had a shot at being normal."

Though it broke Ianto's heart to hear, he understood. How could it be otherwise? He wasn't sure he could endure living forever just to be with Jack a tiny bit longer, were the situation reversed.

He nodded and forced himself to meet Jack's gaze, seeing the anguish and regret there, certain it was his fault, yet also knowing there was nothing he could do but honor Jack's wishes. It was an awful feeling, one Ianto wished more than anything would simply go away, the decision taken out of his hands. Because somehow, he knew the decision would fall to him. He would be looked to if (when) it came time to enforce the DNR or make some other life-altering choice. He would be the one asked to speak to Jack, or choose for him, because even if the others didn't know much about their relationship, they knew there was something going on. It would be Ianto's responsibility, and he didn't know how he would ever be able to make the decision on his own.

Jack's words gave him some direction, some measure of understanding, but Ianto's own heart rebelled because deep down, he wanted Jack to live. And with that thought, he gasped and stepped back, away from Jack. To say that he'd had a painful realization was putting it lightly; it was like being stabbed in the heart as the epiphany shattered across his consciousness.

This was Lisa all over again.

Jack was watching him curiously, opening his mouth to speak, but Ianto held up his hand, motioning him to wait while he collected himself. He turned around, putting his head down so he didn't hyperventilate as his mind raced through the implications. It was not fair, not this, not again! He had done everything he could to save Lisa, sacrificing everything including her own release from pain and sorrow, even when the pain had been so bad she had begged for it to end. He had refused to let her die, endangering the entire world, because he had loved her and couldn't lose her. And now Jack was dying, the one man in the world who couldn't die, and Ianto knew he would be faced with the same horrible choice. He didn't want to lose Jack, but could he let him go and release him from the pain and heartbreak of immortality when he had not been able to do the same for Lisa? Ianto had tormented Lisa by keeping her alive for so long; how could he do the same to Jack, just to keep him a little bit longer?

The answer was simple: he couldn't. He could not make the same mistake twice. He would let Jack go when it was time.

One breath, then two, and three. Slowly Ianto turned around and returned to Jack, settling his shoulders back and taking Jack's hand, grasping it tightly. He never wanted to let go, but he knew now that he would, if he had to.

"I won't let you suffer, Jack," said Ianto, running his bandaged hand over Jack's face. "I won't let you bear the weight of forever on your shoulders if you have the chance to move on from it. To have that normal the rest of us have." As if death was a normality mortals craved. For Jack, it was.

Jack's eyes welled up, and he pulled Ianto down against his forehead. "But I don't want to leave you," he whispered. "I really don't."

"I know," said Ianto with a crooked smile as he held back tears. "And until you do, we'll keep fighting, like you said. But there will be no resurrection gloves, no rifts, no resets. I won't sacrifice your death for an unhappy life."

"I'm not unhappy," Jack said, his breath hitching in a half laugh, half sob. "I just want to be…" He trailed off, and Ianto kissed him silent, hoping it would not be the last time.

"I know," he said. "I know, Jack. We'll get through this."

Jack cleared his throat and pulled away from the thick, heavy emotions swirling around them, feelings they did not normally acknowledge, at least not with words. "Thank you," he said, closing his eyes. "For understanding. Now, there a few other things I wanted to talk about as well."

"All right," said Ianto, sitting back down on the side of the bed with Jack's hand still in his own. "I'm listening."

"I have a will," Jack began, and Ianto nodded to stop him; he already knew of it and would take care of it without discussing it.

"I'm aware of it, as well as your solicitor. It won't be a problem."

"Right. I should've known." Jack laughed, but it ended up as a cough. "Okay, then can I ask you an even bigger favor?"

"Of course." Ianto didn't hesitate, although he was worried. What else would Jack ask of him? Could he possibly do it when the time came, when so many burdens were already weighing him down?

"Look after them," Jack said after a moment's pause. "I know you do already, but especially Tosh and, god, Gwen. She's going to take it the worst."

Ianto looked away at Jack's words, because yes, Gwen would take it hard, but Ianto could feel his own heart breaking into pieces already. Jack pulled him back.

"That's not what I meant," he said. "I know you will…I know it will be hard…but Gwen's different. She's not going to accept it. Don't let her lose herself. Please."

Ianto nodded; it was a lot to ask, but he would do it, for Jack. He couldn't meet Jack's eyes, however, because who would save him then? Who would keep Ianto from falling to pieces? Owen? The thought made him shake his head with a snort, breaking the tension, and he glanced back at Jack and smiled. Jack appeared relieved.

"Ianto, I don't know what comes after this life," he said, holding Ianto's eyes so intently that there was no way Ianto could look away even if he wanted to. "All I've ever seen is darkness. All Owen and Suzie saw was darkness. But I've always wanted to believe that there was more, even if those of us who come back simply don't remember it."

Ianto nodded, encouraging Jack to continue even though he had no idea where the man was going with the conversation now; he suspected it would not be comfortable.

"I want you to know, Ianto…that if there is anything out there, anything for us after this life…then I will be waiting for you there. I promise."

Ianto felt like he'd been kicked in the chest, his heart almost stuttering to a stop as his breath caught in his throat, but he covered it as best as he could. He leaned forward and kissed Jack's forehead, forcing himself to smile. "If there_ is_ anything after, there will be so many people waiting for _you_, Jack, that you won't need to wait for me."

"But I will," Jack said, the unspoken words clear in his eyes. "I swear I will, Ianto. I will wait, and I will search, and I will find you again, whenever and wherever it may be."

Hands shaking, Ianto stood on wobbly legs and kissed Jack before leaving. He needed to get away before he broke down completely. "Get some rest, Jack. I'm going to go see what Tosh and Owen have found. Want me to send Gwen down?" He asked this last with a teasing tone, knowing the likely answer. Jack pulled a face.

"No, I'm going to sleep a bit. You do what you have to do."

"I'll check on you soon. We're going to get something to eat as well."

Jack's face lit up. "Could you maybe eat down here again? All of you? I'll even try to stay awake this time."

Ianto nodded, knowing that Jack was probably going stir crazy lying in bed all day and could use the company of more than one morose person at a time. "All right. But get some rest first. I'll be back soon."

He let a lingering finger trail over Jack's lips before pressing one last kiss to his lips, then hurried upstairs. Gwen had not returned with dinner, so Ianto hurried past Tosh and Owen and into one of the corridors that branched off the main Hub. He ignored the call of his name and walked blindly, his eyes squeezed shut against the burn he could feel developing behind his eyelids. His breath began to quicken as well, but it wasn't until he was far enough away, in a small dark room by himself, when he finally let himself sink to the floor, head falling to his knees.

And for the first time in forty-eight hours, Ianto wept for all that had happened, and all that he might inevitably lose.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Another thank-you to Tamaar, my lovely beta! Let's take a break from the doom and gloom, shall we? Next chapter will set things in motion. Thank you for reading! I'd love to know what you thought.


	7. Chapter Seven

VII. _We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone. ~William Shakespeare_

Gwen soon returned with sandwiches for everyone, and they ate down in the medical bay together as Jack had requested. Owen grumbled about it being unsanitary, just as he had the night before, but everyone knew that was only because he couldn't eat anything. Jack seemed glad for the company, and everyone's spirits rose, even Ianto's. He'd had his moment of weakness and was determined that it would not happen again. After washing his face and composing himself, he joined the others, taking a place next to Jack's bed, while Tosh and Gwen brought down chairs and sat on the other side. Owen stood and watched, tossing in his two cents whenever needed.

Everyone avoided talking about Jack, his injury, or the mystery surrounding Parker Douglas and the bullet. Instead, Gwen had them all sharing the stupidest thing they had done that didn't put the planet at risk (by then Gwen had wised up with her games and knew she was guilty of having endangered the planet any number of times all on her own.) Jack's tale made them laugh uproariously, and he seemed to revel in the attention, though Ianto noticed that Jack was also the first to stop laughing, his smile forced and his eyes sad again. Ianto reached over and squeezed Jack's hand in understanding, holding it tight, knowing that Jack was doing this for them as much as for himself. Normally Ianto would never demonstrate his feelings in front of the others, but it was a testament to his heightened anxiety that he didn't care what the rest of the team saw at that moment.

It was while they were laughing about Owen's near miss at global annihilation that they heard the cough from above them. As they were all with Jack, it had to be an intruder, but since they were in the medical bay of their secret underground base eating take-away, none of them were armed. Five pairs of eyes glanced up in alarm, only to relax when the familiar woman standing at the railing leaned forward and laughed at them.

"You look like you've all seen a ghost," she exclaimed with a wide smile on her face. She was wearing black trousers tucked into tall boots, a loose blouse under a snug vest. Her black hair fell in several braids around her shoulders, and bright blue eyes were sparkling with amusement. "I'm sorry to sneak up on you and your little party, but I did knock upstairs, and no one answered. Now I know why."

Owen crossed his arms over his chest, closing himself off from the woman above them. Tosh and Gwen exchanged concerned glances before looking to Jack and Ianto for answers. Jack was grinning broadly, though, and Ianto couldn't help but join him. Tahlia Blake was not a threat, she was a friend. Ianto nodded at the girls before moving up the stairs to welcome their unexpected visitor.

"Ianto Jones," she said as he came around the railing and held out his hand. She swatted it away and pulled him into a tight embrace, sneaking in a kiss behind his ear that had him blushing immediately and Jack protesting loudly from below. Tahlia laughed and glanced down at Jack.

"Don't worry, I have one for you too even if I do still like him better," she said. She linked her arm through Ianto's elbow, and they joined the others downstairs. Tahlia quirked an eyebrow at Owen, who simply nodded in greeting, and exchanged quick hugs with Gwen and Tosh before moving to Jack and kissing his ear as well.

"Always getting into trouble somehow, aren't you Jack?" she asked, brushing the hair from his face much as Ianto had done several times already. He watched them fondly, if with a bit of confusion as to the reasons for her sudden appearance.

Tahlia Blake was a Time Agent. She was the only decent one he had met besides Jack, which sometimes made him wonder how Jack had ever been a Time Agent himself. Then again, Jack had been a different man before he had met the Doctor, and men like John Hart and Parker Douglas might not be representative of the entire Agency.

Like Jack, Tahlia had left the Agency and set out for herself, although she had tried to do it a bit more honestly, becoming a bounty hunter rather than running intergalactic cons. They had met her several months earlier when she had come to Cardiff looking for an alien device that had been quite hot on the intergalactic black market: a permanent weaponized version of a device originally meant for more recreational body swaps. Jack and Ianto had somehow activated it before she had arrived, swapping bodies and unable to return to their own. It had ultimately worked out, although Ianto had not only died while in Jack's body, but he'd also had the opportunity to use Tahlia's wrist strap for a bit of time travel in order to sort out a few things before the whole sordid mess had ended in a hail of gunfire and intergalactic alien cops. Tahlia had turned over the weapon to the Shadow Proclamation, promising to return and visit some day.

Now Ianto wondered what had brought her back to Earth, to this particular time. It couldn't possibly be a coincidence that she had appeared right after Jack's shooting by another Time Agent, could it? He was about to ask when Jack beat him to it.

"So what brings you back to our doorstep? If I'd known you were coming I'd have cleaned up a bit, maybe even shaved."

Ianto bit back a snort. Jack was wearing an open medical robe, his arm hooked up to the IV still replenishing his fluids after the massive blood loss he'd suffered. His face was pale and grey, he was sporting the beginnings of a scratchy beard, and even his eyes were duller than normal. Tahlia looked at him with such sadness that Ianto was surprised to see tears in her eyes.

"This," she said, laying a hand on his chest next to the large bandage that covered the bullet hole that hadn't yet healed. "I came to warn you, but obviously I was too late."

"Warn him?" asked Ianto, his voice sharp as he stepped closer to catch her eye. He felt the others tense around him. "What do you mean?"

She sighed and turned toward him. "I ran into John."

"John Hart?" Ianto asked, unable to keep the note of shock and disgust out of his voice. He cursed silently to himself while Owen snorted and Gwen groaned. Tahlia glanced around at them with a rueful grin.

"Seems like the response he gets from most people. Yes, you know him as John Hart. He said that he'd met you, and that you had parted on bad terms."

"You could say that," said Owen, stepping forward and speaking with Tahlia. When she had last been there, she had shot down his advances relatively quickly. Being dead had shaken even more of his confidence, but it appeared John Hart still brought out Owen's anger eight months later. "He shot me, hit Tosh, and poisoned Gwen."

"That sounds like him," she murmured, then glanced at Jack and Ianto. "Let me guess, he probably propositioned you two?"

"He killed me," said Jack, his voice hard. Ianto glanced at him, knowing that John Hart was still a sore point with Jack, even after everything they'd been through. The man had callously pushed Jack off a building all for the want of a diamond, and at that point, Hart had not known that Jack was immortal.

"And you?" she asked Ianto. Ianto could only roll his eyes.

"I got a nickname," he replied dryly. "I suppose I was lucky."

"Eye Candy?" asked Tahlia, a sparkle in her eye. Ianto groaned, but Jack chuckled; he knew how much Ianto hated that nickname.

"What?" she asked. "It's true, you are." She winked, prompting Jack to sit up a bit straighter.

"Hey, stop it. I thought we went over this last time," he said.

"Can't blame a girl for still trying," she replied, but she was smiling, and Ianto knew she was kidding, and Jack knew it as well. It was strange but nice to turn the tables on Jack once in a while when it came to running into beautiful women who fancied him.

"What did Hart say?" asked Ianto, trying to get things back on track.

Tahlia nodded. "Right, sorry. He told me he'd met Parker Douglas at a bar—the Blue Moon." Jack nodded, a fond look on his face, and Ianto wondered why that was important.

"The Blue Moon?" he asked, prompting one of them for more information.

"It is—or will be, I suppose—a popular hangout for Time Agents in the future," said Jack, smiling almost wistfully. "We went there all the time. 46th century pub located in the Artemisian system. Really does have an amazing blue moon, too."

"I was stopping by to catch up on things when John literally staggered out of one of the side rooms. And not drunk for a change, which was what caught my attention." She paused, and her voice turned serious. "Apparently Parker Douglas got hold of a manipulator when he was released from prison, and when he learned you had left the Time Agency not long after he went to Volag-Noc, he went back in time to track you down. He started at the Blue Moon, figuring he'd eventually run into either you or John."

"And sure enough, John showed up." Jack sighed.

"I think it started out friendly at first," said Tahlia. "They talked, caught up a bit. John said Parker looked so much older, almost broken, but sounded sincere. He asked a lot of questions about you."

"I've only seen John once in over one hundred fifty years by my timeline," Jack said. "It's not like he could tell him much."

"He told Parker Douglas that you couldn't die."

Tosh gasped while Owen swore under his breath. Ianto inhaled sharply and glanced down to see Jack's reaction; he still appeared slightly confused. Shaking his head, he coughed before responding.

"But John doesn't know why I can't die," said Jack.

"Do you?" asked Tahlia, and Jack nodded.

"Yes, I have a pretty good idea. Especially since it's not working at the moment."

Her eyes widened slightly. "That's what I came back to warn you about. John said to tell you Parker was out of prison, knew you couldn't die, and had a good idea of where to find you and your team."

"How'd he know when to find Jack?" demanded Owen. "Hart give that up too?"

Tahlia nodded, but appeared reluctant to implicate Jack's former partner. "He did. He said he was drunk and high and pissed off at Jack. He didn't even realize he was being played until Douglas slipped him a sedative and left him unconscious at the table."

"Why didn't he come himself?" asked Ianto.

Tahlia was quiet for a moment before answering. "He said he wouldn't be welcomed. He wasn't sure if you would even believe him. And he was planning to go after Douglas."

"What?" asked Jack, his voice cracking in surprise. He started coughing again, which prompted Owen to hurry over and take some readings.

"You're overexerting yourself," he said. "Lie down and stay calm."

Jack did look more tired, and without protest he let Ianto help him back to a more supine position. Tahlia stepped away, looking both worried and scared. Ianto wanted to talk to her privately, but he knew Jack wouldn't want it, would want to learn as much from Tahlia as he could. They'd have to puzzle it out together before letting Jack get some rest.

"So Hart knew that Douglas was planning on coming after Jack? And he actually asked you to warn us while he tried to stop him?" asked Ianto. Tahlia nodded from where she stood next to Gwen and Tosh.

"Yes," she said. "But obviously I was too late. I had no idea when exactly Douglas would find you, except that it was after John's visit, and apparently John didn't stop him either." She hung her head. "I'm sorry, Jack," she murmured.

"It's not your fault," he replied, trying to smile, but it came out more of a grimace. Owen adjusted some pain medications, and Jack slowly began to relax, closing his eyes. Ianto thought maybe Jack had gone to sleep and glanced up at Tahlia.

"Do you know how Douglas did this?" he asked. "Hart told him Jack couldn't die, but how did Douglas figure out how to circumvent that?"

"I don't know," she said. "John couldn't have told him, because he doesn't know. He felt awful, Ianto. He told Douglas about Torchwood and Jack's immortality, but he didn't mean for Parker to use the information against Jack."

"No excuse," Ianto growled, and Jack touched his arm lightly.

"He probably does feel bad about it," said Jack. "It's not the first time John's slipped up after a high."

"So John Hart sold you out," said Owen. "Brilliant. That still doesn't tell us anything about what Douglas did to you."

"Douglas must have got the information from someone else," Gwen offered, but Owen shook his head.

"Who? Who in the future would know how Jack works? We don't even know, and he's lying right here in my medical bay."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Owen," said Jack, letting his eyes drift shut.

"Yeah, don't remind me," Owen grumbled. "But we need to know what's doing this in order to stop it."

"It's possible he figured it out himself once John said something," said Tahlia, glancing at Jack for confirmation. When it became obvious that Jack wasn't listening, she continued, addressing the others. "He was brilliant. He did more to advance the technology of our manipulators in a few years than others had done in decades. He was a scientist as well as a field agent, so he could have found a way on his own, if he had access to what he needed."

"Or he used his wrist strap to find someone who did know," said Tosh. "Like he used it to find John Hart." Tahlia's eyes widened slightly at the suggestion, and she nodded in agreement.

"We need to find Parker Douglas," said Ianto, looking not at Tosh or Tahlia but down at Jack, whose eyes flew open at Ianto's words. Jack seemed to understand immediately, and a flash of fear moved across his face as he reached for Ianto's fingers, grasping them weakly.

"No," he said. "You can't. It's too dangerous."

"It might be the only way, Jack," Ianto said. "I've done it before."

"Done what?" asked Gwen, moving closer as she tried to understand what Ianto was suggesting.

"That was, what? An hour jump? You're talking thousands of years in the future! I can't let you do that!" Jack started coughing again, and Ianto felt terrible for getting Jack upset, but for the first time since Jack had been shot, he felt hope. With Tahlia there, perhaps they could find answers. They had more time now: Tahlia had a working vortex manipulator.

"Wait," said Tosh. "Are you talking about finding Parker Douglas in the future?" Gwen gasped and started to protest, but Owen laid a hand on her arm to stop her as Ianto looked them all in the eye.

"Do you have any other ideas?" he asked, stepping away from Jack and crossing his arms over his chest as he faced them. "Any other way we can figure out what did this to him? With our own limited technology?"

They were silent until Tahlia cleared her throat.

"I assume you want to use my manipulator to do this?" she asked, her voice stiff. Ianto turned to her in embarrassed surprise and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't even ask."

She was smiling when he opened his eyes. "That's all right, I was thinking the same thing myself. We'll go back to the Blue Moon and talk to John, see if he found out anything about what Parker was planning, where he was going."

"Hold on," said Gwen, stepping closer once more. "If you've got a working wrist strap, can't you go back in time and stop Jack from being shot in the first place?"

Jack closed his eyes with a sigh. Ianto was silent, staring at his feet. What he wouldn't give to do that! Yet he knew it was wrong; it was against the rules of time travel to change the past because of how it might affect the future. He glanced up at Tahlia and silently pleaded with her to answer Gwen's question. Tahlia nodded and turned to Gwen.

"We can't go back and change something that's already happened. It's what got Parker sent to prison in the first place," she said. "You never know what the effect of changing time like that might be. Sometimes it corrects itself with very little mess, but most of the time the consequences are worse than what you were trying to change in the first place."

"I don't understand," said Gwen. Now Tosh looked away, clearly understanding the consequences. It seemed so simple, so easy…and yet it was also so very wrong and complicated. Ianto sighed as he answered Gwen this time.

"All we can do is try to find Douglas, find out if he knows how to reverse this, or if he has a cure."

"Why would he have a cure?" asked Owen, voice dripping skepticism. "If he's got a special weapon that's hand made to kill someone like Jack, he's not bloody likely to have a cure ready to go."

Tahlia answered when Ianto did not. "It's our only chance of saving Jack. Something is doing this to him. If Parker can tell us what, maybe we can find a cure somewhere else—or somewhen else."

Ianto met Tahlia's gaze, knowing it was all they could do now, no matter the dangers involved. They both turned to gaze down at Jack, who studied them carefully before closing his eyes and nodding, obviously reluctant to agree with what Ianto knew was a completely mad plan.

"Fine. See what else you can find out from John about Parker Douglas."

The others started protesting immediately, but Jack stopped them with a shout that turned into a prolonged cough. When he stopped, he wiped his mouth, and blood came away on his hand.

"Owen?" he asked, voice rising with uncharacteristic fear. Owen bolted over to the bed and began checking him over. Everyone backed away, but Jack reached out for Ianto's hand.

"I need to talk to you about this first," he whispered, another coughing fit interrupting anything else he wanted to say.

"Shut up before you bring up a lung," snapped Owen, listening to Jack's chest. "Yeah, either you've got a chest infection or you reinjured your lung coughing. Probably both, and since your body can't fight it off with magic, we need to keep on it and make sure it doesn't get worse. I'm adding more antibiotics to your drip. How's the pain?"

"My chest hurts," said Jack. "And it's hard to breathe."

"I'll give you something that should help that too, but we may have to put you on oxygen soon if your breathing doesn't get better. Everyone else upstairs."

Without protest they started to leave, but Jack called Ianto back. Owen adjusted some of the tubes and monitors set up around Jack, then gripped Ianto on the shoulder before leaving as well.

Jack motioned Ianto closer.

"Three things," he said, his voice low and hoarse. "One, be careful. Don't get yourself hurt or killed in the future. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Ianto murmured, and Jack smiled sadly at the fond formality.

"Second, be prepared. Traveling thousands of years in time is different than a few hours. It'll take you a while to recover because you'll probably get time sick. And once you get to the Blue Moon, prepare yourself again. It'll be the 46th century, and you are about to see more aliens that you've ever seen before."

"Worse than the local pub on a Saturday night, then?" Ianto asked lightly, and Jack nodded, still serious.

"Arm yourself. Several times over. And no matter what you see or hear, keep your straight face on or you're dead."

Ianto nodded, far more nervous about what he was going to do than he had been moments earlier. It was both exciting and terrifying to think he would be traveling into the future, Jack's future; if it weren't for such dire reasons and Jack's clear concern, he might have enjoyed it much more. "And third?"

Jack glanced away; when he turned back, there were tears in his eyes. "I'll keep fighting until the end, but remember my DNR. Remember what we talked about, if it comes to that." He took Ianto's hand and pulled it to his lips. "I trust you to do the right thing."

Ianto huffed out a sound that was half a laugh and half a sob. "That's a lot of responsibility," he whispered, hanging his head.

"You can do it," Jack replied. "You've done it before, and you'll do it again. I believe in you."

Jack's words struck Ianto right in the heart, and he nodded wordlessly. He didn't know what to say, but was saved from speaking at all when Jack pulled himself upward by the scruff of Ianto's neck and kissed him hard, pouring a good deal of passion and perhaps even love into it. Ianto returned the kiss, trying to be gentle, hoping this wasn't the last time he'd kiss Jack, but so, so scared that it might be. Jack must have felt it too, because when the kiss ended, neither of them spoke, they simply locked eyes and breathed deeply together for a long time.

"Go," said Jack, lying back down and obviously exhausted. "Good luck."

Ianto ran a hand over Jack's cold and clammy face, frowning at the abrupt turn for the worse Jack had taken in the last hour. He had to find what was doing this, find a way to save him. Kissing Jack's forehead, Ianto leaned down and whispered in his ear.

"I will come back to you," he said. "And I will do everything I can to stop this." He was once again reminded of the strange parallel the situation shared with Lisa's time in the basement, how hard he had worked to keep her alive and find a cure for her. Shaking his head at the comparison, Ianto turned to leave, but Jack stopped him.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he said, blue eyes flashing wide to pierce Ianto with the naked truth: Jack wanted to live, but there was a price he was not willing to pay. Ianto would have to respect that.

"I won't," Ianto replied. He offered Jack a far more confident smile than he felt before heading up to the Hub and his trip to the future, hoping he would never have to make such a heartbreaking decision.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Thank you so much to Tamaar for the always spot-on corrections and suggestions! It's so much better thank to her eye, and you have no idea how many emails she gets from me about various plots and ideas. Thank you, I couldn't do it without you and it's been so much fun!

Tahlia Blake is from a previous story of mine, _Walk a Mile_. You don't really have to read that story to know her, as I summed it up with her arrival. But if you are interested in just what happened to Jack and Ianto with the body swap, and how she figures into that story, do give it a try.

Thank you for reading! I hope this chapter didn't come as too much of a shock. I always knew there was going to be some wibbly-wobbly timey-whimey in this story. Buckle up!


	8. Chapter Eight

VIII. _The only thing we know about the future is that it will be different. ~Peter Drucker_

"You can't do this, Ianto," said Gwen as soon as he walked into the conference room where the others had gathered after leaving him to speak with Jack.

Ianto raised a single eyebrow. "It's our best chance to find Parker Douglas and a cure for Jack. Our_ only_ chance."

"It's dangerous," she said. The others were unusually silent, as if they were afraid to interrupt what Ianto sensed would be an unavoidable confrontation between him and Gwen. He knew what was coming and resigned himself to it.

"Everything we do is dangerous," he pointed out.

"Jack needs you," said Gwen, which surprised him, especially coming from her. While the team certainly knew about him and Jack, they only talked about it to tease one or the both of them. Ianto was fairly sure none of them considered him and Jack serious, anything more than quick shags around the Hub. Owen had said as much before Martha had left. And Jack's dislike of labeling things had apparently rubbed off on Ianto; he wasn't sure whether to think of it as serious either most times. Or maybe he just wouldn't let himself think of it that way, knowing the inevitable conclusion.

"Jack needs me to help him, not hold his hand," Ianto replied. His voice remained surprisingly calm and even.

"He needs you here, not running down criminals in the future," said Gwen. "Let me go instead."

Ianto felt his face harden. It was not her place to take this from him. He was general support for Torchwood, but more importantly, he was general support for _Jack_. He was the one who was there for Jack, who trusted him and had faith in him. Gwen challenged Jack, doubted him, sometimes forced him to question himself when he was already broken down by the things he had to do and the decisions he had to make. It was Ianto's job to support Jack, which meant it was now his job to save Jack, as well.

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "I was there. I met Douglas."

"Which could put you at risk!" she exclaimed. "He shot you, Ianto. He might try again."

"There's nothing stopping him from shooting you," said Ianto.

"We need you here," Gwen insisted.

"Actually, you don't. I'm disposable," Ianto replied. Owen's head snapped up with a frown, and Tosh protested immediately.

"You are _not _disposable, Ianto!"

"In the grand scheme of things and at the end of the day, yes, I am. Owen needs to stay with Jack to monitor his condition. You need to work on the bullet and find out how to fix this." Ianto turned to Gwen. "With Jack unable to perform his duties and the other two busy, you'll need to take over. You did it once, and you'll have to do it again."

Gwen was silent, as if she had no answer this time.

"_You_ kept us going then, Ianto," said Tosh softly. "We can't lose you." A barely there nod from Owen agreed, and Gwen glanced at them with a frown. Ianto sighed; he had not wanted it to come to this. He knew he was right, but wasn't sure how to convince them that he was the best one to do this.

"If something happens to me, I am replaceable. I am not a doctor, I am not a genius, and I am not a leader." He paused and glanced around at them all, each of them looking away until Owen finally shook his head.

"It's still not true." Owen stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest. "You're not replaceable, not to us, and especially not to Jack."

"Think about Jack," Gwen agreed. "He needs you."

"Jack would understand—he _does_ understand," said Ianto. He was once again surprised by their tactics; what did they really think, really see between him and Jack? Maybe they saw more than Ianto thought. "I talked to him. He knows the risks."

"You're being selfish," Gwen said, her words cutting.

"I'm being practical," Ianto replied. His voice was clipped and curt now; the accusation stung, that he would do this for himself.

"You're being closed-minded," snapped Gwen. "I can do this too, Ianto. I want to help."

Ianto bit back his own biting reply and instead played to Gwen's sense of compassion and her obvious feelings for Jack. "I know you do. Stay here with him, hold his hand, talk to him. Keep things running so Tosh and Owen can figure this out."

Gwen looked away. "You're not the only one who cares, you know."

Tosh sucked in a breath; Owen swore under his. Ianto felt his temper start to rise and tried to check it, knowing it would not help Jack to fight with Gwen.

"I am well aware of that," he said quietly.

"Then let me help him. Let me go instead."

"Gwen, I've done this before," he said, impatient but still trying to remain calm. "It should be me. It has to be me."

"Why?" she demanded.

"Because I have the most to lose," said Ianto, unable to stop the words from tumbling out, short and terse and filled with pain and anger. Gwen's eyes flashed.

"We all have a lot to lose," she threw back.

"You have Rhys," Ianto snapped, stepping closer, going in for the kill he could no longer avoid. He was tired of arguing with her, but he would not back down, even if he hurt her. "And Jack wouldn't want you to risk your life with Rhys for him. He wouldn't want you to die for him. You_ know_ that, Gwen."

She was silent, as if she'd been slapped by the words Ianto threw at her. "Bastard," she whispered, wiping at the tears that threatened to spill from her wide eyes. The others were watching them with apprehensive faces, as if trying to understand what had just happened.

"Silly bitch," he said, the anger gone almost as quick as it had flared. He tried to smile as he pulled her into a hug, and she let him rub her back as he pressed a kiss to her hair. It was what Jack would have done, with his endless capacity for forgiveness.

"I don't want to lose you either, Ianto," said Gwen, stepping back and laying a hand against his chest. He sensed her honesty and was surprised by the depth of her feelings for him. "Jack would never forgive us if we let you go and lost you somewhere in the future."

Ianto offered her a roll of this eyes tempered with a small smile. "Ah, the truth comes out. The wrath of Jack should he start the day without his morning coffee fix."

"That's not what I meant," said Gwen. Ianto inclined his head in understanding, then turned back to the others, his arm around Gwen's shoulders as he addressed Tahlia. She had stood silently in the background through the confrontation with Gwen, but now looked up and focused on Ianto.

"What do you think?" he asked. "Is this even going to work?" She shrugged, tucking her hands into her pockets as she rocked on the heels of her boots.

"Depends on what you want to accomplish," she replied. "What are _you_ thinking?"

"I want to talk to John Hart first," said Ianto. "Then we track down Douglas and get him to talk. Hopefully we'll have some idea of what he's done to Jack so Tosh can counteract it, if not a cure itself."

"Sounds like a nice and vague sort of plan." Tahlia nodded in approval. "I told John I'd meet him back at the Blue Moon in two hours, so it shouldn't be hard to find him."

Gwen frowned. "What if it had taken you longer than two hours to find us and warn Jack?" she asked. Ianto ducked his head so no one would see his smile. Tahlia wagged her eyebrows as Owen groaned.

"This is why you're staying in our time, Cooper," he said. "Time travel. She could probably go back five minutes after she left if she wanted to."

"Right," said Gwen. Ianto glanced down to see her blushing and couldn't help but offer a look of sympathy. She nodded gratefully at him before turning to Tahlia. "All right then, I may not get the whole temporal thing, but what are people wearing in the 51st century?" she asked. Now it was Ianto's turn to frown.

"What does my clothing matter?" he asked. "I need information. I'm not going deep undercover for any length of time."

"You'll stick out like…well, like a guy from the 21st century in that suit, sharp as it is," Tahlia replied, motioning at Ianto's three-piece pinstripe. "They don't make them like they used to."

"Well, we don't have any spare clothing from the future lying around," Ianto replied dryly. "And I'm pretty sure Jack abandoned his quite a while ago as well. What do you suggest?" He paused. "Do people still wear jeans in the future? I might have a spare pair in my locker."

"Not really", she said. "But you can get away with quite a bit. I'd lose the jacket and tie, though, maybe unbutton the waistcoat…" She walked over to Ianto and practically started undressing him. He pushed her hands away with a reproachful look, but she winked as she reached up and ruffled his hair a bit. "And that. You are entirely too put together for the 46th century, Ianto."

"I'm too put together for this one," he muttered, placing his coat and tie over a chair. He had on black trousers with a deep turquoise shirt and a black pinstriped waistcoat. Tahlia unbuttoned the waistcoat as well as the first three buttons of his shirt, and he rolled his eyes. "Should I find a choker, perhaps?" he asked.

"Nah, this'll do, although you'd blend in better with a bit of dirt and some sexy stubble," she said thoughtfully, studying his face until Ianto felt himself begin to blush. "Ah well, maybe next time. Now, what you want from John exactly?" she asked, stepping away and getting back to business again.

"Kick his arse," muttered Owen; not to Ianto's surprise, Tosh nodded in agreement. Jack's former partner at the Time Agency had left no love lost when he'd come to Cardiff.

"I'm sure he's kicking himself," Tahlia replied. "And he's not the one who shot Jack."

"Might as well have," Owen replied with a defiant glare in his eyes.

"He didn't give up the information willingly, Owen," she said. "He was drunk, high, and easily manipulated."

Owen held up his hands in mock surrender. "Par for the course for him, I imagine. Doesn't stop me hating the bloody tosspot."

"Ianto?" Tahlia asked, turning away from Owen. "What do you want to know?"

"I want to talk to him myself, find out _exactly_ whathe told Douglas to get some idea of how Douglas could have found out more about Jack's immortality."

"I already told you, Parker was brilliant, so he could have very well worked it out for himself," she replied. "Maybe John will know where he is so we can get answers straight from him."

"That too. And if not, then we wait for Douglas to come back to the Blue Moon." Ianto took a deep breath. "Assuming once he shoots Jack, he even bothers to return."

"But what about Jack?" asked Gwen, her voice sounding concerned. "What if you have to wait hours, or even days?"

"Time travel, Gwen," said Owen, rolling his eyes again. "Honestly woman, you call yourself Torchwood?"

"And when have you ever traveled in time, Owen Harper?" said Gwen.

"Never have, never will," said Owen, crossing his arms over his chest and letting Gwen's attitude roll right over him. He gestured at Tahlia. "What do you two need to do this?" he asked.

"Are you armed?" Tahlia turned toward Ianto, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Of course." He had made sure to arm himself before he'd come to the conference room. He had his standard issue Torchwood weapon at his side, as well as Jack's Webley, recovered from the park, strapped into his ankle holster in a sentimental fit of…well, something. There was also an alien pocketknife in his trousers, and a smaller switchblade tucked into his waistcoat. He felt like a walking armory; all that was missing was a sword thrown over his back.

"All right, that should cover it, I suppose," Tahlia said, nodding in approval. "This might feel a bit strange." She laid a hand on his arm and started programming her wrist strap. "Most people get sick the first few times, especially when it's a big jump."

"Hang on a minute," said Owen, and he ran out and down to the medical bay. He returned quickly and tossed Ianto a plastic bag full of pills. "Blue for nausea, white for pain," he explained with a shrug.

"Thank you," Ianto murmured, oddly touched by Owen's thoughtfulness.

"Where—or when, I suppose—are you planning to jump?" the doctor asked. Ianto looked to Tahlia for the answer.

"Like I said, I asked John to meet me back at the Blue Moon in two hours. We'll jump back earlier if we can so Ianto can get himself acclimated."

"If we can?" asked Ianto.

Tahlia shrugged and gave him a sheepish grin. "Even with Parker's work, traveling by manipulator is not always an exact science. Could be a hour, could be a few depending on local temporal phenomena."

"What's it like, this place?" asked Ianto. "Upscale alien pub or Star Wars cantina?"

Owen snorted, but Tahlia obviously did not understand the reference. "It's not the worst place out there. Clean, simple, hell of a view, but still a bit shady. Lots of aliens makes it a good place to do all sorts of business, especially the questionable kind." She grinned. "You might be in for a shock, actually."

"That's what Jack said," Ianto pointed out. "I've seen aliens before."

"Not like this," she replied with a wink.

"Can I take pictures?" he asked dryly.

"Better not," she said. "Timelines and all that. We're trying to save the future, not change the past."

"Right," Ianto murmured, remembering what was at stake. He was traveling into the future for information that would help them save the Jack, not sight-seeing.

Once of the monitors in the medical bay started beeping. Owen swore and ran out, Gwen at his heels after a small smile and wave for Ianto. Ianto started after them, but Tosh held him back.

"Go," she said softly. "We'll take care of Jack. You get the answers we need to help him."

"But what if he—" Ianto started, and Tosh stopped him.

"He won't. Just come back, quick and safe."

Ianto glanced down at his hands and finally nodded. "I'll do my best," he said.

"Of course you will," said Tosh. "You'd do anything to help Jack, we know that."

"But Tosh, how do I know if I'm doing the right thing, if—" he started again, and once more she stopped him from voicing his fears.

"You'll know," she said, obviously trying to reassure him. "Now go. The sooner you're back with answers, the sooner Jack will get better."

Ianto nodded and turned to Tahlia, who gave him a supportive smile. He took her arm once more, and she pressed one last button on her wrist strap. With a gut-wrenching pull centered around his navel, Ianto felt himself transported away, sucked into the future to find a way to save Jack.

And yet he was still conflicted. How far would Jack want him to go to find answers and fix what had happened? And how far was Ianto willing to go?

* * *

Author's Note:

More everlasting thanks to my lovely beta Tamaar! Next stop: the Blue Moon and John Hart.


	9. Chapter Nine

IX. _Even though the future seems far away, it is actually beginning right now. ~Mattie Stepanek_

The first thing Ianto did when he materialized in the 51st century was turn around, fold over, and vomit. Jack had not been exaggerating when he'd said that traveling thousands of years forward was completely different from jumping an hour or two back, though Ianto had no idea why. He felt like he had been ripped apart atom by atom, then haphazardly stitched back together by a drunken tailor with a broken needle. His skin prickled, his head ached, his heart was racing, and everything he'd had for dinner came right back up as his body tried to adjust to the indescribable sensation of traveling through time and space.

He was dimly aware of Tahlia chuckling behind him and wanted to begrudge her for it, but she had warned him, so he should have been expecting to lose both his dinner and his dignity. Still, it rankled that she was perfectly fine while he was pale and sweating as he stood to take in their surroundings.

They were standing in some sort of alcove, one of many along a short corridor that was crowded and dimly lit. The sight was overwhelming: dozens of aliens hurried back and forth, strange beings of all shapes, sizes, and colors, with any number of heads, eyes, arms, and legs. Ianto recognized a few from his work at Torchwood, though most looked like something from a bad science fiction serial. There were just as many humans as aliens, however. For some reason, that made Ianto more comfortable, to see that the human race had survived the next three thousand years and made it to the stars. He had heard much from Jack, of course, but now he was seeing it, living it. Knowing humanity persevered filled him with a small spark of hope, that Torchwood was doing the right thing when so many times it seemed to go wrong.

Well aware that he was staring, Ianto wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt and closed his gaping mouth, trying to ignore the stale taste of vomit. He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other even though his body did not feel anything like it had moments ago and was not cooperating with him particularly well.

"Take one of Owen's pills," said Tahlia, linking her arm with his and steadying him as they stepped out of the alcove and joined the crowd heading toward a large set of double doors at the end of the corridor. "Now that it won't come back up, it'll help with any residual nausea from the jump."

Ianto didn't trust himself to speak and nodded in response, digging the doctor's bag out of his pocket and popping one dry. By then they had joined the queue at the doors. There was sign above them in several languages, none of which Ianto recognized except, thankfully, his own. So English had moved out to the stars as well; another comforting thought.

Tahlia was silent until they came to the doors and were stopped by a large alien with a head that looked remarkably like a rhinoceros.

"The Judoon are bouncers too?" Ianto murmured, recognizing the interplanetary police from both Torchwood files and personal experience. Tahlia produced a small plastic card from her wrist strap, the Judoon scanned it, and they were allowed inside. Ianto wondered if it was some sort of intergalactic credit card. She said something about the Judoon, but whatever she said was lost as Ianto was struck speechless by the sight before him.

The Blue Moon was enormous. Easily the size of two rugby pitches, it was a perfect circle in shape. Everything was made from a deep, dark wood: the floors, the walls, the tables and chairs. The wall stopped about ten feet up, with a glowing blue rail providing ambient light throughout. After that, the wall became a completely clear dome that rose tens of feet above him, showcasing the vast realm of outer space in all its dark, infinite splendor.

If Ianto hadn't taken one of Owen's pills, he was fairly sure he would have retched again; he was grateful to the doctor for thinking of such a small but important detail.

It was stunning. It was terrifying. It was glorious. The black sky above them burned with thousands of stars, but it was not the tiny pinpricks of light that drew Ianto's wide-eyed gaze. On the horizon hung the crescent shape of a very large, very close, and very blue moon. Directly above him swirled the dizzying arms of a spiral galaxy. And to his right, far away yet seemingly so close, twisted the multicolored clouds of a nebula more spectacular than any photographs Ianto had ever seen on Earth.

Beside him, Tahlia let go of his arm and grasped his left hand, squeezing his fingers to catch his eye. He turned to find her watching him with a fond grin, and he wondered how many people had the same reaction, or if it was just a common, everyday sight in the 46th century, this wonder of deep space laid bare above him.

"Told you it was a good view," she said, pulling him toward the perimeter of the dome. The center was taken up by a circular bar, made of the same dark wood as the rest of the room, while the edges were dotted by doors interspersed with tables, chairs, and an occasional colorful sofa. The large open space in between was about half full, and they dodged the aliens wandering about the tables spread throughout, until Tahlia pressed him down onto a comfortable chair along the edge of the dome.

"It's spectacular," Ianto breathed, finding his voice and glancing up once more. "I…I don't even know what to say."

"You can thank me later," she said with a wink. "I'm going to get us something to drink while we wait. It'll help you feel better."

"I feel…" Ianto paused, staring at the dome. "I feel small. Incredibly small."

Tahlia laughed. "I doubt you're that, Ianto Jones. I'll be right back. Don't get into trouble."

Ianto nodded, still entranced by the sights around him even though he knew he had to pull it together. They were there for a reason, not to gawp at the sights like a dumb tourist. Shaking himself back to reality in order to focus on what he was there for, Ianto closed his eyes and took several calming breaths. When he opened them, it was to find himself face to face with a tall humanoid figure that had strikingly blue skin dotted with what appeared to be large green freckles. It was crouching before him, close enough for their knees to touch, and Ianto felt a flare of panic as the alien leaned closer until they were nose to nose. He wasn't sure whether he was about to be kissed or killed.

"You are not from this time, human," said the alien, its voice dry and paper thin. Ianto was surprised to find he understood it; he had expected to be aurally assaulted by dozens of alien languages in the future.

"Not exactly," he started, but was saved when Tahlia returned with two large glasses of what he hoped was something strong, because he needed it. Then again, he needed his wits about him more than a shot of alien alcohol, so water would probably be best, although alien coffee could be interesting.

"He's with me, Illia," said Tahlia. Ianto wasn't sure whether his companion was amused or annoyed by the alien who had accosted him. The creature stood and inclined its head to Tahlia.

"My apologies, Time Agent. I should have realized. I will leave you." The blue-skinned creature bowed and left them, avoiding their eyes. Ianto watched it leave, curious now that the initial rush of panicked adrenaline had subsided.

"Would it have hurt me?" he asked. Tahlia shook her head as she sat down across from him and handed him a glass.

"No, she wouldn't have hurt you," said Tahlia. "Silts are just nosy. They're time sensitive and fancy themselves as some sort of temporal police."

"Like the Time Agency?" asked Ianto, watching warily as Tahlia sipped her glass. She rolled her eyes when she noticed his hesitation.

"It's just mineral water, Ianto. Go ahead and drink it. Stay hydrated."

"Right," he murmured. He sipped at the cool drink and found it was indeed water, but water with a kick, far more pungent and strong and clean tasting than any bottled water he had tried on Earth. "Wait, am I drinking water from another planet?"

"Of course you are," she replied with a laugh. "And to answer your other question, no the Silts are not like the Time Agency at all. They are relatively primitive and simple, they just want to be involved more than their ability allows for."

Ianto thought about asking more, but decided against it. Again, there were more important things to focus on than blue aliens.

"So when are we?" he asked. "Besides the obvious. How long until Hart arrives?"

Tahlia glanced at her wrist. "We're about thirty minutes early, by your time standards. We can sit and wait while you get your space legs under you, so to speak."

"We're not on a ship," Ianto pointed out.

"No, but have you even been off-planet before?" When he shook his head, Tahlia patted him on the leg. "You're taking it well, then. Drink up and ask me anything."

They talked about the bar and the various aliens surrounding them until they had both finished their drinks. "I'll get us another," she said, motioning at a large alien with feathers moving between the tables. "John should be here soon."

"Brilliant," murmured Ianto as Tahlia talked with the yellow bird. He leaned back and was startled by a sound beside him.

"Eye Candy!" drawled a cocky voice he'd recognize anywhere. "Imagine finding you here."

Ianto froze, then stood up as slowly and deliberately as he could. He schooled his features into an unreadable mask, earning a cocked eyebrow from Hart. "John Hart," he finally replied.

"That's Captain John Hart to you. Miss me so much you came to visit, then?"

Ianto answered with a wicked smirk that caused Hart to step back. "Not really," he said, and let loose his balled fist, right into John Hart's jaw.

"Bloody hell, Eye Candy, that hurt!" exclaimed Hart, hand to his jaw. Ianto felt a twinge of guilty pleasure as Hart spit blood onto the floor; it almost made up for the sore knuckles.

"Good," he said, nodding as Tahlia rolled her eyes from across the table. He did not apologize to either of them. "You deserve it."

"Oh, maybe I like it. You and Jack start to play rough yet?" asked John. He worked his jaw a bit and raised an arrogant eyebrow. "Because I could go for that kind of threesome."

Ianto had already had it; the man knew exactly how to quickly infuriate a person. He lunged forward, grabbed John around the neck of his dirty red jacket, and slammed him against the wall behind them as he rammed his gun into John's chin. "Could you really?" he asked, the anger he felt over this man's betrayal bursting to the surface. "Because I could go for something like this."

"Ianto." Tahlia stood and placed a cautionary hand on his arm. Out of the corner of his eye, Ianto saw a Judoon start to move toward them. He shaking as he stared at John, so tempted to put a bullet in him. God, how he hated the man at that moment. Yet he forced himself to stand down, shoving Hart away before they caused a scene. Unfortunately they needed John Hart to find Parker Douglas. The irony burned, that they needed the help of the same man who had enabled it all to happen.

"Much better," murmured John, straightening his clothing with as much dignity as he could. "Not even sure what that was for, to be honest."

Ianto glared at him. "You sold him out," he snapped. "Jack might die because you gave up his secret."

Hart shrugged. "Jack can't die. I saw it myself. I tried it myself. He'll bounce back."

Ianto surged forward again, but Tahlia stopped him. "John, Parker Douglas found a way. I wasn't in time to warn Jack."

"He's dying," Ianto ground out. "And it's your fault."

"I didn't touch him—"

"We know," Tahlia interrupted his protest. "But we still need your help, John."

"With what?" Despite Hart's tone of indifference, Ianto could clearly see that the man was rattled. "I don't know anything more than when I saw you two hours ago. Not sure why I came back, actually."

She raised an eyebrow in challenge. "You had a cut on your temple when I last saw you, and it's healed. So you've been gone for more than two hours. You said you were going to try to stop Douglas, but obviously you didn't because he's shot Jack. That's why you came back."

John sighed as he glanced back and forth between them. Then he seemed to give in, pulling up the nearest chair and collapsing into it as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Fine, fine. Got anything to drink? I could use a stiff one right now—maybe ten or twelve."

Ianto snorted as Tahlia motioned to the feathered server moving between the tables. John ordered something that sounded absolutely horrendous, then fell silent. No one spoke until all three of their drinks appeared from a hole in the center of the table. Hart downed his in one shot before placing it back in the center and pressing a button that Ianto suspected meant 'refill.'

"You should know, Eye Candy," Hart finally began, "that I didn't mean to give up Jack's secret. At least, not if I'd known Douglas was going to go after him."

"You not only told him about Jack's immortality, you told him where to find us!" Ianto exclaimed. "How could you do that to him?"

"I was angry, all right?" said John, voice pitched defensively. "Don't know how long it's been for you lot, but I just left your dreary little city a few weeks ago. Or rather, you kicked me off what could have been a decent planet to shag my way around."

"Of course we kicked you off," said Ianto. "You killed Jack. You shot Owen, attacked Tosh, and poisoned Gwen."

Hart's eyes glanced into the distance, as if remembering. "Yeah, that was brilliant, if I do say so myself." Another glass appeared in the center of the table, and Hart downed a second shot of whatever he had ordered; it must have been foul, because Tahlia was staring at him with a look of disgust on her face. "Except for the bomb that attached itself to my chest, of course."

"_That _was brilliant, if I do say so myself," Ianto murmured.

"Still got that stopwatch?" asked John. He put down his glass and was about to request another when Ianto sat down across from him and grabbed the man's slim wrist.

"If I did," he said, his voice low and threatening, "I would time how long it takes you to tell us everything you know about Parker Douglas."

"All right, all right," said John, wrenching his wrist away and holding his hands up as if in surrender. "You are so intense, Eye Candy. Just like the first time we met."

"I have a name," said Ianto. "Use it."

"In bed, maybe," John replied with a dirty wink. "Or does Jack not share anymore? It was fairly obvious something was going on last I saw you, but how long has it been for you since you kicked me out?"

Ianto narrowed his eyes, taking his time to answer. "Eight months," he replied.

"You with Jack then?" asked John. "Or does he still not do long-term?" Ianto suspected the other man was trying to put on a casual air, but the tone of his voice gave it away; John Hart cared more than he was letting on. Ianto let a dangerous little smile creep over his face. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.

"It's none of your business, but yes," said Ianto, leaving it at that. "And I don't share."

"Too bad," John murmured, eyeing him with a leer. "Because I could show you things Jack never dreamed of."

"Not interested," said Ianto. "I'm here to save Jack, not slag off with his psychotic ex-partner."

"I'm not psychotic," John started, but Ianto slammed his hand down on the table, gratified to see the other man jump in surprise.

"No, you're a bloody traitor!" he shouted, earning the annoyed looks of several nearby tables. He lowered his voice and leaned forward over the table into Hart's personal space. "You betrayed Jack to someone very dangerous, and now he's dying. Tell me what you said to Parker Douglas."

John's eyes flickered from Ianto to Tahlia and back. Once again he sighed. "Look, Eye Candy, I didn't mean to betray him. You make it sound like some sort of epic tragedy when you put it that way. I didn't even realize his little trick was such a big secret."

"You think he goes around advertising the fact that he can't die?" Ianto asked, a note of incredulous skepticism in his voice.

John shrugged. "Don't see why not."

Ianto felt like he was dealing with a complete imbecile. He took a deep breath to remain calm. Could Hart really be that ignorant and stupid? How could he not see that Jack's secret put Jack in danger–not from death, but from people who would exploit his inability to die? "I'm not even going to bother explaining it. Tell me what you told Parker Douglas, and everything else you know about him."

"Right." John studied him for a long time. "What if I only told you in bed? Take me up on it?"

Ianto casually reached in the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out the small blade he had hidden there. Offering John another small smile, he unexpectedly leaned over and grabbed him by the chin with one hand, bringing the knife up to John's throat with the other.

"Stop trying to get into my pants and tell me what I need to know, or I will cut it out of you. Slowly."

John slapped the knife away and twisted his head, and Ianto let him, because he had seen the look of surprised defeat in John's eyes. He settled down and watched.

"You're something else, Eye Candy. Fine. I'll tell you what you want to know. But I don't know how it will help you save Jack."

"Then you'll help us figure something out," said Ianto.

"Not sure why I should when you keep threatening me with bodily harm without any bodily reward," said John, sounding petulant. Ianto swore, put his hand to his gun, and was just about the shoot the man in the kneecap when Tahlia finally stepped in.

"Stop it, both you you," she snapped. "This isn't helping Jack at all, this ridiculous pissing contest. John, I know you, and I know you want to help Jack. Otherwise you wouldn't have gone after Parker Douglas last time I saw you. Just talk to us. For Jack."

John glared at Ianto, who glared right back. "For Jack, because yes, I screwed up. I ran into Parker Douglas a few hours ago here at the bar, a few days ago now for me. He'd been out of prison for a month or so, I think, and said he was looking for information on what he'd missed while he was freezing his balls off on Volag-Noc."

John clasped his hands in front of him, his voice turning more serious. "He wouldn't tell me how he'd acquired a manipulator, which should have been a give away, but I was already half drunk and sniffing shimmerdust, so the thought that maybe he'd gone crazy and killed someone for it barely came and went. He bought some more drinks, we got a private room and did another hit of dust, and we talked." John shrugged. "There was a lot to fill him in on, twenty-five years in hell leaves a lot to catch up with. He wanted to know about all sorts of things—the Time Agency, the general political climate, science, history, me, and of course, Jack."

"And it didn't occur to you that he might be asking about Jack for the wrong reasons?" asked Ianto. To his surprise, John shook his head.

"It didn't. He honestly seemed stable enough. I might have said something about my former partner being a self-righteous prick, but he defended Jack, said Jack was just doing his job. He played me. Because that's when he asked about finding Jack, hoping to talk to him. He said he wanted to put his demons to rest. I believed him, he sounded like he truly regretted what he had done and wanted to forgive Jack. I didn't realize he wanted to kill Jack and put his demons to rest permanently."

"You really are a bloody moron, aren't you?" murmured Ianto. "So that's when you let slip about Jack's immortality?"

"Yeah, told him how I'd just left Jack and his perfect little team back on Earth in the early 21st century. Might have ranted a bit about your pretentious base, your stupid car, that bloody coat." John pretended to shudder. "God, that coat. Awful waste of a great arse."

"If you knew Jack, you'd know the coat suits him perfectly," Ianto snapped. "But you don't know him, and you sold him out. Did Douglas say anything about what he was going to do to Jack?"

"Not until the end, no," said John. He glanced at Tahlia before continuing. "He must have slipped me some sort of knock-out drug, because he sat with me, spinning more lies, until I started to fade. When he stood to leave, he whispered in my ear, thanking me for the information because now he could have his revenge. And then he slammed my head into the table."

"That's what clued you in, then? After it was too late?" Ianto asked, dripping sarcasm.

"Bit of a dead give away, yeah," said John. "You know, usually I admire a man who goes all out for a bit of revenge. I realized quick enough that Jack might actually be in danger, only I was practically unconscious at that point and couldn't do anything about it. When I came to, I ran into Tahlia almost immediately and sent her back to warn Jack."

"And you went after Parker," said Tahlia, joining the conversation once again.

"I tried to. I worked the room, tried to get as much intel as I could, followed a lead or two." John made a grand gesture around the bar and then put down his hands. "That's where I am right now, following up on something I heard. I came back for three days, tracking down every lead I could, but I found nothing."

"So you don't know where Douglas is or what he was planning to do?" asked Ianto.

"Not a clue, Eye Candy. That's all I know." Hart gave an Ianto a shrewd look. "But maybe if you tell me what's happened in the past, I can still help."

Ianto exchanged a glance with Tahlia. He wasn't sure whether to trust John Hart with that sort of information and sensed she might know better. She nodded, apparently confident that it was the right thing to do, so Ianto sighed and told Hart everything that had happened in Cardiff.

John gave a low whistle when Ianto had finished. "Hell of a story. Could be a vortex gun, but those won't be invented for a few hundred years. Which means your man probably went into the future to get what he needed, just like you." John leaned back, fingers laced behind his head and a thoughtful look on his face.

Ianto rubbed his hand at the back of his neck as he swore. He'd hoped for answers, but had nothing except more questions. They needed Parker Douglas, but he could be anywhere in space and time. It was lucky enough that they had found John; without a stronger connection to Parker Douglas, there seemed to be no way to find him in the future.

John was watching the doorway, eyes narrowed, when he grinned and stood up to leave. Ianto followed suit, unwilling to let the man out of their sight before he'd proven useful, but Hart held up a hand and stopped him.

"Relax, Eye Candy. I'm not bailing on you. I need to talk to someone who just walked in. I'll be back in a few minutes."

He sauntered across the room toward the door, where a rather large and colorful man had some sort of feline humanoid draped across his arm. John linked elbows with the man's other arm and guided him to a table, ignoring the mewled protests of the feline. Ianto watched them, his nerves on edge.

"Can we trust him?" he asked Tahlia, who was also following John closely. She shrugged.

"Sometimes," she replied. "Depends on the day, depends on the drink." She offered Ianto a wan smile. "I think he'll help us as best as he can, though. He was quite close to Jack when they were partners."

"So I've heard," Ianto murmured, still watching John Hart closely.

"I think John wanted more than Jack," she said, her eyes now on Ianto instead. "And don't forget, Jack has had over a hundred years to get over John; for John, it's been far less time since Jack left the Time Agency and struck out on his own."

"I know," said Ianto, nodding but not looking her in the face. "Jack's told me. Still doesn't mean Hart is trustworthy."

Tahlia patted his leg again. "Not if he's trying to sell you something, no." Ianto snorted and was about to say more, but at that moment John stood and came sauntering back. He grabbed a drink from a nearby server, who squawked in annoyance, and then sat down next to Ianto, throwing his arm around Ianto's shoulder.

"Piece of cake," he announced. "As long as you're in the right place at the right time, know the right people, and ask the right questions."

"What did you find out?" asked Tahlia. Ianto extricated himself from John's arm.

"Douglas was here a month from now…or he will be. Damn, years with the Time Agency and I still can't get my temporal vocabulary straight." He slammed down the rest of his drink. "Our friend over there is addicted to time-jumping. Yesterday he saw Douglas a month from now, said he looked smug the minute he walked in. He went into a private room and didn't come out."

"What do you mean, didn't come out?" Ianto asked, his voice sharp.

Hart shrugged. "Don't know. Either our friend missed it—could have been pissed—or Douglas didn't come out alive."

"Couldn't he just transport out?" asked Ianto.

"It's not allowed in the main areas of the bar," Tahlia replied. "They've got shields up to prevent it. It's their attempt to curb some of the more…questionable activities around here."

Hart snorted. "Questionable doesn't even begin to describe it, gorgeous. And there are always ways around that sort of thing. Anyway, Douglas will be here a month from now, so we just need to go then and wait for him."

He stood up and grinned. "Coming, Eye Candy? You can ride with me this time."

Ianto let his eyes flutter closed as he suppressed a groan. It looked like they were traveling even further into the future. He wasn't looking forward to another jump, but they needed Parker Douglas, and Ianto would do whatever he needed to do to save Jack.

Even work with John Hart.

* * *

Author's Note

Many, many thanks to Tamaar for polishing this chapter and listening to me go on and on about this story. She's helped me iron out so many details I wouldn't have made it this far without her! I'd be stuck wrestling with the complexities of time travel and temporal vocabulary. Hope it was worth the wait. John Hart is a bastard but he is quite fun to write!


	10. Chapter Ten

Warnings for violence, torture, some language.

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X. _It is my feeling that Time ripens all things; with Time all things are revealed; Time is the father of truth. ~Francois Rabelais_

Everything looked exactly the same. Even though Ianto knew they had jumped a month into the future, they were in the same corridor, in the same alcove, with what appeared to be the same aliens rushing back and forth. And he had the same reaction, though this time he was able to swallow the nausea and stop himself from doubling over and making another mess. Owen's pills must have helped settle his stomach.

John Hart strolled over from the next alcove with a smirk on his face. Ianto had refused to travel with him, unable to trust the man completely. Hart had declared it Ianto's loss and rolled his eyes at Ianto's stubborn resistance.

"How're you feeling, Eye Candy?" he drawled. Ianto straightened his shoulders and glared at the man.

"Fine. Let's go." He stepped forward, hoping Tahlia would follow him before he got swept up in the alien crowd.

"Hang on," said John, putting a hand on Ianto's arm. Ianto shook him off with a growl, and Hart held up his hands in defense. "Whoa. Touchy, aren't we?"

"Sod off," Ianto muttered. He may not have vomited, but his stomach was still roiling and his head was pounding. He wondered how many trips it took to adjust to the demands of time travel; he was fairly certain he would never get to that point.

"Look, we can't all go in together," John said under his breath. "Douglas might see us and run. Especially you, Eye Candy. He might shoot more than your hand if he recognizes you."

"I can take care of myself," snapped Ianto.

"I don't doubt it," said Hart, his voice calm and easy. "But if you want to help Jack, cornering Douglas won't cut it. He needs to be worked."

"Didn't take you as one for much caution," said Ianto.

"I do think things through, you know." John pulled the wounded puppy face; Ianto rolled his eyes, wondering if the man had learned it from Jack.

"Except when rare Arcadian diamonds are involved, it would seem."

"Yes, well." John glared at him. "Lesson learned. Women can't be trusted, especially when it comes to jewelry."

"Will you stop already?" Tahlia asked, her voice thick with exasperation. "I swear, the two of you together are worse than Jack and John." They both opened their mouths to protest, but Tahlia shot them a look, and they stopped. "John, have a seat at the bar and wait for Douglas. Stay sober this time. Ianto and I will be in a private room. Bring him there so we don't make a scene."

John waggled his eyebrows. "I love it when you take charge, gorgeous." He blew her a kiss and moved toward the bar, greeting various patrons as he walked between the tables. Ianto felt his lips curl in disgust when a large and rather slimy looking alien grabbed John and snogged the hell out of him. Hart obviously enjoyed it, as he returned the kiss with sloppy enthusiasm. Tahlia shook her head and led Ianto toward one of the doors set along the edges of the dome.

"I hate that man," Ianto muttered.

"He's not so bad, once you get to know him."

"He's insufferable."

"He is. Then again, so is Jack, in his own special way." She winked as she knocked and pushed open the door. "Jack is just more tolerable when it comes to his insufferable-ness."

"And principled," Ianto pointed out. He glanced around the private room. It did not have the same overhead view as the main bar did, although it did have a large window for stargazing. Small and circular, there was enough space for a small table and chairs and an overstuffed sofa. It was a room where just about anything could happen, and probably did; he idly wondered how privacy was maintained during such activities.

"You didn't know Jack before," Tahlia said, throwing herself onto the couch with a sigh. "He wasn't all that much better back in his day."

"I can imagine," Ianto murmured. Jack had admitted as much, so Ianto knew the woman was not exaggerating or telling tales. Jack had been a different man before he had met the Doctor. It was one of the things Ianto admired about Jack, that he had changed and become a better person in spite of all that he'd been through—or perhaps because of it. Jack had even changed in the short time Ianto had known him, as had Ianto. And Ianto knew that things were shifting for them again; there was certainly no way either of them was going to come out of this experience unchanged.

As Ianto thought about Jack, lying in the medical bay under Owen's care, he felt his body tense with anxiety. They had only been gone a short while, and Tahlia's vortex manipulator would ensure they returned near to the time they left, but Ianto still felt nervous and impatient. Jack could be closer to death, yet they were no closer to helping him. He sat down on the other end of the sofa, gazing out the window at the blue moon that now sat high in the sky, trying not to imagine Jack unable to return to the stars one day.

"We'll find him," Tahlia said quietly from next to him, as if reading his mind. "We'll get the answers we need, and we'll save Jack."

He nodded without answering, hoping she was right.

They waited for hours. Apparently John's contact had been wrong about the time. Ianto grew more and more impatient and began pacing the room, only settling down to eat the strange food Tahlia purchased and brought in for them. He let himself be distracted as she told him about the dish—what it was, where it was from, the rather odd way the meat was prepared. He idly wondered if his 21st century digestive system could handle it, though she assured him it would be fine. It was some sort of stew, quite tasty, with bread and cheese and something Tahlia told him was a light wine. She shrugged when he raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Good for staying calm," she said and took a long sip. "I'm tired of your pacing."

It was another hour, and Ianto was almost starting to drift off, before John came bursting through the door, dragging a man behind him and tossing him to the floor. Ianto jumped up as he recognized the bedraggled form of Parker Douglas, his green eyes still fanatically bright, lip bleeding where John had apparently punched him. Douglas shot a glare at Hart before turning toward Ianto and standing. He wiped his mouth and smiled, false delight coloring his features.

"Mr. Jones! Whatever are you doing in the 46th century?"

"Looking for you," Ianto growled, drawing his gun as he stepped forward and leveled it at Douglas's forehead. "So start talking."

"What about?" Douglas replied with the same mock sincerity Ianto had seen in the forest with Jack.

John Hart shoved Douglas toward the table and pushed him into a chair. He bound the man's hands behind it, making sure to wrench's Douglas's shoulders painfully into the handcuffs. Grabbing another chair, Hart spun it around and straddled it in front of the older Time Agent. Ianto stood behind Hart, his gun still out but resting at his side.

"You shot my partner," John started. Douglas raised an eyebrow.

"Former partner," he pointed out. "Jack left you and the Time Agency years ago."

"Doesn't matter, he was still my partner," snapped John. "You hurt him, and you used me to do it." Ianto was slightly surprised at this unexpected loyalty, but set it aside to think about later; for all he knew, Hart could be playing at it, putting on the air of concerned partner to lure Parker Douglas into confessing.

"It was so very easy, too," Douglas replied casually. "Did I thank you for it?"

John's face paled, but before he could react, Ianto stepped forward and backhanded Douglas across the temple with the butt of his gun, much as Douglas had done to Jack in the forest. "No more games. Tell us what you did to him."

Douglas shook his head clear and smirked. "Like he said, I shot him. You were there, Mr. Jones. Don't you remember?"

"What did you do to the bullet?" Ianto demanded, ignoring the man's taunts. He needed answers and he needed them quickly, so went with his gut instinct, that it was the bullet which had injured Jack so severely.

"Nothing," Douglas replied calmly. "And everything."

"Where did you get the vortex gun?" asked Hart. Another smirk.

"Very good, but you know where I got it." Douglas glanced at all three of them. "I must say, I'm impressed that you managed to find me. Waste of time, though. You won't find what you're looking for."

John Hart stood and strolled around the room, motioning to Ianto to take the chair in front of Douglas. He turned it so it was facing the right way, then sat down slowly, gun still in his hand, leaning forward and making a show of staring down the man before him. Douglas didn't flinch at all. "And what do you think we're looking for?" asked Ianto.

Douglas leaned forward. "You're trying to save him," he whispered before sitting back with a laugh. "As if he deserves it."

There was a loud crack, and Douglas's face contorted in pain. He did not cry out, however, but merely bit his lip as his eyes flashed with anger. Hart was standing behind the chair, and from Douglas's reaction, Ianto was fairly certain John had snapped one of man's fingers. Out of the corner of his eye, Ianto saw Tahlia frown, but she made no move to stop them.

"Tell us what we need to know," Hart said, his voice low and seductive as he leaned over Douglas's shoulder. "Tell us where you got the gun and what you did to the bullet, and we'll let you go alive."

Douglas glanced over his shoulder and laughed. "Of course you won't let me go. I'm not a fool."

"You're a fool if you don't tell us," hissed Hart, and there was another loud crack. This time Douglas groaned, his head falling to his chest, his breath coming in quick gasps as the pain flared with the snap of his finger. "So I suggest you start talking, unless you want me to start counting."

Douglas shook his head. "You can count?" he laughed breathlessly, his head still down. Hart broke a third finger, and Douglas swore as he cried out.

"I can count quite high," Hart whispered. "In fact, I can count all the way to 206, although I suspect I'll only need half that before you're dead from the pain and trauma of multiple fractures."

"You were always the bigger bastard, weren't you?" Douglas snorted as he lifted his head to meet John's eyes over his shoulder.

"I had a job to do and a reputation to maintain," said Hart.

"I endured far worse on Volag-Noc, you know," Douglas offered conversationally.

Ianto drew the man's attention back to him with a tap of his gun against Douglas's knee. "I'm sure we can think of something. The 21st century had its fair share of…unfortunate and rather primitive practices."

"Did Jack show you the ropes, then?" asked Douglas. "And here I thought he'd gone soft, percolating on that planet for so long."

Ianto's face hardened at the man's statement. John grabbed Douglas's broken fingers and squeezed.

"Talk to us, Parker," he hissed in the man's ear. "This is getting boring, and I might have to let the primitive try out his technique on you."

Douglas was breathing rapidly through his mouth. He nodded, causing John to drop his broken fingers and step back. Douglas closed his eyes. "That won't be necessary. I'll tell you what you want to know," he said. Green eyes opened to flash at them above a cruel leer. "Because it won't help you one bit."

Ianto raised his gun and placed it between Douglas's eyes once more. "Why not?" He was surprised at how level his voice was, considering his heart was in his throat. He did not condone torture, but he would not stop it, either. Not for this man, and not when so much was at stake.

"There's nothing you can do," Douglas laughed. "He'll be dead by the time you go back."

"How do you know?" Ianto demanded, and now he pressed a deep circle into the man's forehead, forcing his hand to remain steady. The right side of Douglas's mouth crooked up, but he didn't answer. In the space of a heartbeat, John had reached down, grabbed Douglas's hand, and crushed another finger. This time there was a long howl of pain that did not bother Ianto in the slightest, not for what Douglas had done to Jack and the cruel, flippant attitude he was giving them. A few broken fingers were nothing compared to Jack's suffering.

"Tell the pretty boy what you did," hissed John. "Or we'll move through all 206 bones in the human body nice and slow."

"It doesn't matter," Douglas wheezed. "It's too late."

"Tell me anyway," Ianto growled, resisting the urge to backhand the man to the floor, chair and all.

Parker Douglas pulled himself up straight. His face was lined with pain, his temple bruised and bloodied, the cold grey metal of Ianto's gun still pressing a circle into his forehead. His took a deep breath to compose himself and began to talk; his voice sounded straightforward and sane, not the manic mocking tone of earlier.

"I spent six months in the 56th century working with an underground lab to develop an undetectable biological parasite that feeds off the time vortex. It was in the bullet that I fired at Jack."

"Bullshit," snapped Hart, cuffing Douglas on the side of his face. Douglas replied with a shrug while Ianto stared at him, his mouth hanging open.

"It's the truth. And there is nothing you can do about it because they're all dead and gone now, wiped from history."

"So you not only took future tech into the past, but you _changed_ the future to cover it up?" There was no response, and Hart stepped right up to Douglas's face, practically snarling. "You know that's against the rules. Messing with time is what got you tossed in prison, you bastard."

"I have nothing to lose," the man shrugged. "And everything to gain."

Ianto was confused about that last statement, but decided it was not the most important issue to follow at that moment. He was there to save Jack. "So what you're saying is that there are bugs from the future inside of Jack?"

John Hart frowned at Ianto, but Douglas grinned.

"What a colorful way to put it. Bugs from the future." He lowered his voice so that Ianto had to lean forward. "And they are indestructible, these bugs. I assure you."

"That's what you think," Ianto replied, meeting the man's gaze without flinching. He would not be cowed by a madman from the future.

"Oh, it's future tech, advanced biological nanotechnology that even Ms. Sato won't be able to stop."

"You've never met her," said Ianto, pitching his voice with more confidence than he felt. Just the fact that Douglas knew Tosh's name rattled him; what else did he know? Douglas merely raised an eyebrow.

"That's true, maybe I should have killed her to be sure." He sat back and glanced at them all with a broad smile. "Mind you, I didn't think you'd jump three thousand years into the future to try to save him." He turned to Thalia for the first time. "Then again, Ms. Blake has always had too much of a conscience and that beautiful bleeding heart. Of course she's helping you."

Ianto glanced over at Tahlia, who stared at Douglas with icy blue eyes. "It keeps me alive and out of prison."

Douglas's face hardened. "Someday it will get you killed, you know."

"Then at least I will have died honorably," she snapped. She stepped up to Douglas and shook her head with disgust. "What happened to you, Parker? I know losing Samantha was hard, but why go after Jack for it? It wasn't his fault."

Douglas let his head fall backward with a bitter laugh. "He was the one in charge of the mission."

"And it almost killed him, having to follow those orders," snapped John. "He left the Agency not long after." Ianto heard the anger and loss in Hart's voice, but once again refused to let it color his impression of the man. John Hart had done enough damage; it would take a lot to earn any sort of forgiveness.

"And I'm supposed to feel bad for Jack because he has a guilty conscience?" Douglas's face twisted, and in spite of several broken fingers, he pulled at the bonds holding his arms behind him, his voice rising. "He killed my wife! Twice! And now he can't die. He deserves far worse than what I've done to him."

Ianto had his gun up once more and pressed against Douglas's head for the third time that night. "Tell us how to stop it."

"I already told you, Mr. Jones—you can't. Those bugs, as you called them, feed on the energy of the time vortex. And the vortex is almost certainly what keeps your Captain alive. So when they are finished feeding off his energy, he'll die." Another manic grin sent chills down Ianto's spine. "It's as simple as that."

"How did you know?" demanded Tahlia as Ianto sat back in shock, letting the gun fall into his lap. So simple, yet so devastating. Martha and Owen had been right.

"Know what?" asked Douglas, swiveling his head to stare at her.

"About Jack, you cockwit," snapped John. "What made you think it was something about the vortex keeping him alive and not some sort of unknown technology?"

"Ahhh." Douglas nodded. "I see. You need to understand before you lose him. Well, since there's nothing you can do, I'll tell you. Have you ever heard the story of the Eternal Lovers?"

John snorted but Tahlia's eyes went wide. She shook her head, as if denying something Ianto had no knowledge of.

"What's the story?" he demanded. "Tell me."

Parker Douglas glanced up at Ianto through hooded eyes, cocking his head and piercing Ianto with such a strong, penetrating look that Ianto had to force himself to not squirm under the scrutiny. Slowly one side of Douglas's mouth curled up in an almost delighted yet grotesque grin.

"I'd say you might find out soon enough, but that won't be the case much longer." Douglas took a deep breath and laughed through his nose. "Gods, I love the fucked up sense of irony the universe runs on sometimes!"

"What's the story?" Ianto demanded. Something was niggling at the back of his mind, something he didn't want to look at or listen to for fear of what it might reveal. He wanted the story and the cure for Jack. And then he wanted Parker Douglas to pay for what he had done, once they didn't need him anymore.

"The legend of the Eternal Lovers is exactly that—a legend, a story," said Tahlia. "It's not real. They don't exist."

"Come now, Ms. Blake," said Douglas, raising an eyebrow. "How can you still think that, when you actually know someone who can't ever die? Surely if Jack can live forever, a simple story about two lovers who spend eternity together can't be that hard to believe?"

Tahlia was shaking her head again. "Tahlia," said Ianto, fixing her with a glare. "What's the story?"

"It's a fairytale," she said. "A legend that's hundreds, if not thousands of years old. It's the story of a man who died and looked into the heart of time, hoping to see his lover one last time before he passed beyond the veil of life and death. But time became a part of him instead, and the man became immortal. His mortal lover, distraught at having to leave the man alone one day, searched and searched for a cure until he took the same curse upon himself so that he could be by the man's side forever." She turned wide eyes on Ianto, and he felt his stomach twist as he understood.

_Jack?_

Ianto whirled on Parker Douglas. "Is it Jack? In the future? Is that who the story is about?"

"I have no idea," said Douglas with an indifferent shrug. "Who knows? Who cares. It's a good story, though, and for some reason, when John told me Jack couldn't die, it was the first thing I thought of. A man who had looked into the depths of time, who had time itself somehow woven into every cell of his body. A fixed point—or person—in time, a man who could live forever. Certainly sounded like Jack."

"So what did you do, track them down?" asked John, his voice still laced with skepticism. "These Eternal Lovers?" Ianto barely heard Douglas's answer, his mind still turning over the man's previous words.

_A fixed point in time._

Jack had not told Ianto everything about his past, but he'd told Ianto enough. Ianto knew Jack's curse, what had happened to him when he had first died and Rose Tyler had brought him back, however unintentionally, for eternity. He was a fixed point—or person—in space and time. It was why the Doctor had left Jack, why Jack had run after the Doctor desperate for answers.

Jack was forever. _Eternal._

Douglas snorted, bringing Ianto back to the present. "Of course I didn't find them, it's a myth, a legend. But legends start somewhere. So I did a bit of research, confirming at least the possibility of my suspicions, that perhaps Jack couldn't die because he was wrapped up in the vortex, forever bringing him back. And then I jumped to the future, determined to create a weapon that would destroy such man, a man whose life and death was connected to time itself. It took me months, but I had all the time in the world."

The three of them were silent, their stunned shock filling the room. Parker Douglas gave them each an innocent look, mocking in its insincerity. "And it would appear I was right, wouldn't it? About the vortex? Jack _is _dying and there is nothing you can do."

Ianto's head fell to his chest. "No," he whispered. He raised his gun and pressed it to Douglas's head. "I don't accept it. I won't. There must be something we can do."

"I don't think so, Mr. Jones," said Douglas. "I was very thorough. And I—" He was cut off mid-sentence by a beeping sound from his wrist strap, echoed by Tahlia's manipulator as well as John Hart's.

"What's that?" Ianto demanded. Both Tahlia and John were examining their wrist straps.

"Proof," replied Douglas, and he closed his eyes with a small smile.

"Of what?" said Ianto.

"It looks like some sort of temporal wave," replied Hart.

"That it's starting," said Douglas. He sounded positively gleeful.

"What's starting?" asked Tahlia before Ianto could say anything. John was furiously punching at the buttons on his wrist strap, searching for answers.

Ianto had finally had enough. He flicked the safety, thumbed the trigger, and shot Douglas in the foot. The man screamed as both Tahlia and Hart jumped at the unexpected response.

"Answer her," Ianto growled in the man's face. "What's starting?"

Parker Douglas gritted his teeth and glared at Ianto. "Think about it. If Jack Harkness is a fixed point in time, what happens when you take away that fixed point?" He grinned up at Ianto, green eyes bright with pain, but also with victory. "What happens to the universe when he dies?"

"No," whispered Ianto, while Tahlia swore vehemently beside him.

"Oh yes," Douglas whispered back, drawing out the final sound with an insane grin that almost made Ianto shoot him between the eyes. He forced himself to turn away from the murderer before him.

"We need to get back to Jack," he said. The panic was growing, that not only had they failed to find a cure, but that they might be too late. He needed to see Jack, needed to know Jack was still alive, still fighting. He clung to that smallest hope knowing that if he did not, he would fall apart and never find it within himself to be put back together again. Not after so much death, so much loss, so much pain.

Tahlia grabbed his arm before he reached the door. "And do what?" she asked. "We still don't have any real answers, Ianto. We have to keep looking for a cure!"

"Look all you want," called Parker Douglas. "You won't find anything, anywhere. And when Jack dies..." He trailed off, mouthing 'boom!' before laughing out loud, the sound cutting into Ianto's racing heart like a knife until John Hart punched Douglas in the mouth, forcing Douglas silent up as he spit blood onto the floor.

Ianto stared at Douglas with anguish flowing through his veins like fire and ice. He didn't want to believe the madman, but it all made a sickening sort of sense. Jack was a fixed point in time, and from what little Ianto understood about such things, Jack could very well affect the fabric of the universe if he should die. On the other hand, Ianto wanted to believe that Douglas was wrong, that he had based his actions on the ancient legend of a man who had nothing to do with Jack. Yet Jack was lying in the medical bay of the Hub, growing weaker, and if the alert on the three manipulators was indeed proof of something, then perhaps Jack was desperately close to death, and it was affecting all of time and space.

Raising his eyes from Douglas to where Hart stood beside the man, looking almost as stricken as Ianto felt, Ianto cocked an eyebrow. "What do we do with him?" he asked. "Can you take care of him?"

"'Course I can," said Hart with an inelegant snort. "Although personally I think he's outlived his usefulness."

"No!" Ianto snapped, taking a step closer and raising a hand to Hart. "Don't touch him. We might still need him."

"Doesn't matter," Douglas murmured in a singsong voice that made Ianto's skin break out in gooseflesh.

"Shut up!" he shouted. He turned to Tahlia. "I need to see Jack. I have to know that he's all right. We can come back to question him more if we need to."

Parker Douglas shook his head and rolled his eyes. "You won't need to. He'll die and that will be the end of it. You can't bring the dead back to life, no matter what century you live in, and Jack Harkness is a dead man."

"He's not going to die!" snapped Ianto. "So sit down, shut up, and think about how to stop this, because I'll be back and I _will_ get the answers I need, no matter how primitive my technique."

He didn't stop to think about what following through on his threat might mean, only that he would if he need to. But right then he needed to see Jack and reassure himself that Jack was still alive, still fighting. He would deal with Douglas when he needed to.

"I can't stop it and I can't reverse it. And I wouldn't if I could."

"Then we'll jump again, find the answers in the future—" Ianto started, but Douglas shook his head and laughed at them again.

"You don't get it, do you? I made sure I cleaned up after myself. There is nothing in the future for you to find, just like there is nothing in the past. And there is nothing here, in the present, either. You could break into my mind, you could travel across galaxies, you could jump across millennia…but you can't stop it."

"So sure, are you?" asked Hart, holding Ianto's gaze, an enigmatic set to his face.

"I'm sure," Douglas whispered. Hart sighed, swore, and slammed the butt of his gun into Douglas's head, knocking the man to the floor.

"I'll take care of it," he said. He nodded at the doorway. "You two get back to your time. Make sure Jack is alive. Who knows, maybe he'll know what to do. He's the only one who has ever experienced this, after all."

"What about—" started Ianto, but Hart waved him off.

"Go," he said. "I'll take care of him. You go to Jack."

Ianto gazed at John Hart for a long moment before nodding. "Thank you," he said.

Hart gave him a crooked grin. "Don't thank me yet, Eye Candy. Just save him."

Ianto motioned Tahlia from the room, but before they had gone ten feet, he heard another shout from behind him, followed by the unmistakable sound of a gunshot, and he knew without a doubt that Parker Douglas was dead. Blind fury rose up in him, that Hart had killed their only real chance of saving Jack. Even though he knew deep down that Douglas could do nothing for them, he had still clung to the possibility, to that one last hope, and now it had been ripped away.

He almost turned and stormed back into the room to confront Hart, but Tahlia pulled him away, through the bar and back to the entryway alcoves for teleport. He was shaking with anger and adrenaline and anxiety, dreading what they would find when they returned to the Hub. Worse still, he would have to tell Jack what they had learned, which was really so little. Ianto hoped that Tosh and Owen could work with what Douglas had told them to find the cure.

He couldn't stop his hands from shaking, or his breath from quickening, until he wanted to give in to the sudden fear and panic and rage at the world around him. He wanted to go back into the pub and beat the shit out of John Hart for shooting Parker Douglas. He wanted to rush back to Jack and will him better, force him to fight harder and stay alive. And he wanted to run as far as he could from the inevitable truth he felt deep in his soul: Parker Douglas was dead, and Jack was dying, and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it.

"Ianto!" snapped Tahlia, grabbing his face between her hands. "Look at me. Focus." He forced himself to take several deep breaths and gazed into her deep blue eyes. When he felt himself gaining control, she nodded in support, kissing him full on the lips before he pushed her away, stepping back and gaping at her in surprise. "Just making sure." She winked as she set the coordinates on her wrist strap.

"Making sure of what?" he asked.

"Making sure you're still with me. Let's go. That temporal wave might throw us off, but I'll get us back as close to when we left as I can."

Ianto linked his arm with hers, hoping it wouldn't be too late.

* * *

Author's Notes

You know those chapters that you just hate and dread writing? This was one of those. I put it off and put if off, but it got itself done somehow. Probably because my awesome beta Tamaar is always willing to listen to me moan and groan about it. Or, when the inspiration finally struck, to endure multiple emails of flailing about it. She polished this up and helped me settle Douglas perfectly so please give her many thanks. Ianto may not have got off a shot, dear, but we all know he's still awesome and amazing. I'll let him shoot someone in another fic for you. ;)


	11. Chapter Eleven

XI. _Time brings all things to pass. ~Aeschylus_

They materialized in the open area of the Hub next to the water tower. Ianto felt that now familiar twist in his gut, but he had taken another pill earlier and did not need to fold over and let his stomach unload its contents. He did close his eyes and take several deep breaths to settle himself; as exciting as it had seemed at first, time travel was still not a particularly pleasant sensation.

Opening his eyes, Ianto found Gwen and Owen staring at him from the sofa. Gwen was red-eyed and sniffling, and Owen had his arm around her shoulders as if he had been comforting her. Ianto felt his stomach twist into knots once more, this time with panic as fear rushed through his veins. He gagged as he rushed toward the medical bay, the thought of losing Jack without saying goodbye almost too much to bear. Stopping at the top of the stairs, he turned back toward Gwen and Owen when he saw Tosh sitting by Jack's bed with her head bowed.

"No," he whispered. "He can't be…tell me he's not…" He looked to Owen, not caring what the doctor saw in his face in that devastating moment.

"He's still alive, mate," Owen said softly. "But we had a scare not long ago. And unless you found the miracle cure, he doesn't have long. It's been hours since you left, and I've done all I could, but the infection has spread and his organs are shutting down. I'm sorry, Ianto."

Gwen was watching him with bright eyes, as if she was holding back tears only for his sake. Ianto shook his head, let it fall to his chest, and heard her choke back a sob as she realized the truth without confirmation. He felt Tahlia's hand on his shoulder and reached up to grasp it tightly. "There is no cure," he told the others, letting his eyes slip closed. "Parker Douglas is dead."

"Go see Jack," said Owen. He didn't ask any questions, but stood and nodded his acknowledgement. "I think he's only holding on for you." Gwen choked back another sob, and even Owen's voice was rough with emotion. Ianto turned and hurried down the stairs alone, leaving Tahlia to explain to them what had happened in the future.

Tosh was sitting with Jack, holding his hand and smiling as she talked quietly. His eyes were closed and he was wearing an oxygen mask; he looked far worse than when Ianto had left. When she heard Ianto behind her, Tosh leaned forward and whispered something to Jack, kissed him on the cheek, and left his side. Ianto watched as she came toward him, the unasked question clear on her face, his heart breaking for the answer he had to give once more.

He shook his head; she sighed sadly in return.

"I'm so sorry, Ianto," she whispered, kissing his cheek as she had just kissed Jack. "I know you tried."

He couldn't talk; the words were stuck in his throat, a hard lump threatening to choke him. He glanced down into sympathetic eyes, letting her see his pain for one brief moment; he knew he'd break down if he didn't pull it back in again and bury it deep for them all.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat. "Thank you for all you've done, for how hard you've tried, and for staying with him."

A warm hand cupped his face, as if searching for the tears he would not let fall, not then, not yet. "Of course," said Tosh. "I'd do anything for him, for both of you. I'm sorry I couldn't help more."

Her voice broke, and Ianto kissed her forehead as he enveloped her in a hug; if he was squeezing her a bit more tightly than he normally would have, he told himself it was for her sake and not for his. They stood holding one another, silent and still, before Tosh squeezed him back and stepped away, wiping her eyes. She left the medical bay with one last glance at Jack, leaving Ianto alone with the man he had tried so hard to save but knew he would lose despite of all their efforts.

Ianto was not sure how long they had been gone, though it could not have been that long. The hours had taken their toll on Jack, for he looked more dead than alive. It was hard to believe that he wasn't going to wake up in perfect health with the familiar startling gasp at any moment. Ianto had seen Jack die, watched over his pale corpse, held him as life rushed through his cold body. Yet this was so different, so much harder, because this time, when Jack died, he wouldn't come back. Ianto knew that now, not only from what he had learned in the future, but from looking at Jack.

Jack was leaving him.

Ianto almost turned away, a desperate desire to run flooding through him. He forced himself to move forward, to take Tosh's place at Jack's side, because he would not abandon Jack at the one time he needed someone more than any other—the last time. Ianto felt as if he might shatter at any moment, but he would stay by Jack's side until the end, no matter how hard it was, and only then would he fall apart. Alone, when Jack was gone.

Jack seemed to sense Ianto's presence. He began to stir, and Ianto took his hand, hoping and praying that he would wake one more time. God, there was so much he wanted to say. Where would he start? How could he stop? What if Jack didn't wake up? Why hadn't he said it all before?

There was the slightest change in pressure against his fingers, and Ianto glanced down to find Jack watching him through exhausted, half-open eyes. Yet he still smiled, and Ianto could only hope that Jack was smiling because he was there. He ran a gentle hand over Jack's face as Jack reached up to take off the oxygen mask that covered his mouth.

"Hey." Jack's voice was so weak that Ianto almost broke down and cried. That voice, that accent, had never sounded so tired and broken before—so final.

"Hey," said Ianto, trying for a brave smile even though he knew Jack would see right through it.

"No luck, then?" asked Jack. Of course he could cut right to the details. Ianto had only his honesty left to offer; he shook his head, answer enough until he could speak.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and he hated that his voice cracked, because he wanted to stay strong for Jack, for this amazing man who was dying after living far longer than anyone ever should. Ianto took a deep breath to support his shaky voice. "We tried. We found Douglas, and we talked to him, but it was exactly as we suspected—he got everything from the future and then came back in time to kill you. He said there's no cure."

"And Parker?" asked Jack. Ianto wanted to lie, wanted to spare Jack the pain, but again, he knew Jack would see right through him and would want the truth.

"He's dead."

Jack's face shifted in a way only Ianto could understand, and he let his head fall as he shook it, answering the unasked question but unable to meet Jack's eyes. "No, I didn't kill him. Would have liked to, but I didn't. I know that's not what you would have wanted." He didn't tell Jack what had really happened with John Hart. Jack didn't need to know the details; it would only make his passing that much harder.

The man lying before him seemed to accept Ianto's answer and sighed, letting his eyes close. He was quiet for so long that Ianto glanced up at the monitors and frowned, but Jack was still there, sleeping or unconscious once more. Ianto didn't know how long it was before Jack spoke. This time he didn't open his eyes.

"Ianto Jones," he whispered. "This was not supposed to happen this way, you know."

Ianto let his face twist with emotion, knowing that Jack wouldn't see his pain. "I know," he managed to reply, clearing his throat to hold back the sobs he was trying so hard to keep inside.

"I always thought I would be the one to lose you, to hold you in my arms when you died. I accepted it. It's the price I pay for the life I live." Jack opened his eyes, and there were tears there that broke Ianto's heart into pieces all over again. He wasn't sure how many times he'd be able to survive it, this constant battering of his deepest feelings and emotions. "It's the risk I take for daring to love."

Ianto glanced away to compose himself, wiping his own eyes and squeezing Jack's hand before turning back. "I thought I'd go the same way," he murmured. He had accepted it as well, just as Jack had. It was the price they paid for Torchwood, and for each other. "I only hoped that it wouldn't hurt you too badly, that you would move on quickly."

"I don't want this for you," said Jack. "I would give anything to take this for you. I know how much it hurts."

"I know," said Ianto, meeting the other man's eyes with a sad smile. "I know you do. But you've lost enough, Jack. Maybe it's meant to be this way."

Jack frowned as tears fell from his eyes, and he coughed, sounding more like a half-sob, half-laugh. He shook his head in obvious frustration. "I wish I had more time. So many years, and right now all I want is more time to be with you."

Ianto let his chest shake with silent tears at the realization that Jack wanted to stay with him when Ianto would give almost anything for that to happen; it was all he wanted at that moment, had wanted for months. He lowered his head again so that the other man couldn't see his anguish, fingers curling around Jack's hand, held tight in front of his chest. "I'm just glad we had the time we did." He clung to the sentiment although he hated it; their time together was too short, just like his time with Lisa. It was not fair, this shouldn't be happening—not like this. Not again.

"That sounds like an old greeting card," Jack murmured, and Ianto looked up, laughing on a sob he couldn't hold back.

"It's true, though. I am. And Jack, I'll…I'll be all right." He didn't believe it, not for a second, but he had to say it, because he knew Jack was thinking about it. About Ianto, and how he would bear another loss after his family, after London, after Lisa.

"I wish I could be there for you," said Jack. Ianto could feel Jack's sorrow and anger, that this time he would not be there to hold Ianto, to pick him up and put him back together. He wasn't sure anyone could, this time. Losing Jack would surely break him, in spite of what he'd said about being all right. It was too much after a lifetime of heartbreak.

"You were," Ianto said, brushing his free hand across Jack's face once more. "You _were_ there for me, every time I needed you. And now I'm here for you."

"I don't want to leave you." His voice was getting weaker, and Ianto moved closer to be able to hear him.

"I don't want you to leave," he replied, forcing another smile. "But you've lived a long, full, amazing life, Jack. I don't want to keep you here, either. Not when you're in so much pain."

Jack's eyes closed once more, as if Ianto's words had somehow released him. Ianto could only imagine the man's inner conflict between his desire to stay and his longing to move on after so many years of living with the burden of immortality. He heard Jack take a long shuddering breath; it sent shivers of fear through him, knowing the end was near.

"Will you stay with me?" asked Jack, and Ianto nodded through his tears, falling freely now to land on Jack's chest.

"I always do," he whispered.

"I won't come back this time," said Jack. He was fading quickly, too quickly. Ianto leaned forward, taking both of Jack's hands now and holding them tight against him as he pressed a kiss to Jack's dry lips.

"And I will miss that, Jack," he said, letting his forehead lay gently against Jack's. He closed his eyes and breathed with Jack, speaking softly through his tears. "I will miss you flailing back to life, and your accent and that coat and your stories and the way you…" Ianto trailed off as the silence in the room enveloped him; the monitors had gone flat.

"I will miss you, Jack Harkness," he whispered, voice breaking.

There was no answer. Jack was gone.

* * *

Author's Note

He is. I did.

Have a tissue. And a hug.

(And many, many thanks to the lovely Tamaar for the beta job, as always!)


	12. Chapter Twelve

XII. _Time, whose tooth gnaws away everything else, is powerless against truth. ~Thomas Huxley_

Ianto prepared Jack's body slowly and with great care. He was the one who knew it best, after all, and he needed this time alone, even if Jack was silent and still. Ianto meticulously washed his captain, friend, and lover; forgoing the more traditional scrubs for cryofreeze, he then dressed Jack in the clothing he had loved, the period that had defined him: khakis and a blue shirt, braces and a belt. He refused any help from the others and worked stoically, his thoughts focused only on duty, not sorrow.

When he finished, he went to the morgue alone, once more refusing to allow the others to accompany him. Tosh looked as broken as he had ever seen her, and Ianto felt bad for not helping her through her pain, but he couldn't be with them, not then—not when he had tried so hard and failed them all. Gwen looked ready to argue, to demand she be allowed in, but Owen stopped her, his eyes filled with pity. Ianto couldn't face either of them, their anger or their pity. He snapped and left them to mourn on their own, following Jack down to the morgue to finish what he had begun in laying their leader to rest.

Although he had stored dozens of bodies, including people he had known, this was different. This was Jack he was arranging in the cold drawer, Jack he was kissing goodbye, Jack he was pulling the sheet over, tucking it up to his chin. Without warning, Ianto's knees buckled beneath him, and he stopped, unable to finish, unwilling to shut the drawer and mark it over. It couldn't be over. Jack couldn't be dead.

And yet, even though the tiniest spark of hope still burned in the back of his mind, he knew deep down that Jack wasn't coming back. Ianto just needed one last physical connection before he accepted it. He took Jack's body from the cold slab and sat with it on the floor, because that was what he did when Jack died: he held Jack in his lap until he gasped back to life. Ianto couldn't let Jack down now, and so he held him one last time, praying for that gasp, even though he knew it would never come. He closed his eyes and let his tears fall to land on Jack's pale face.

He sat there for hours, growing cold and numb with each passing hour but not caring.

His vigil—if he could call it that—was interrupted by the sound of voices growing nearer. Angry voices: Owen swearing, and Gwen trying to keep things calm. And a new voice he didn't recognize, demanding to see Jack. Ianto took a deep breath and pulled Jack closer to him, as if to protect his dead lover. Whoever this person was, Ianto would not permit him to disturb Jack's final rest.

A man in a blue suit and trainers burst into the morgue, hair askew and dark glasses perched precariously on his face. He took them off as he slowed down to approach Ianto and Jack.

"Oh no," he whispered. "It can't be. It's not possible."

Ianto instinctively knew who the man was. Maybe he recognized him from Torchwood One's files, maybe from what Jack had told him. It was impossible not to sense, deep down, that this man was not human. Ianto could almost feel time swirling in eddies around the visitor as he continued to approach the wall where Ianto sat with Jack still in his arms.

Gently lowering Jack to the floor, Ianto ran his hand across a cold cheek before standing to face the intruder before him, who was still staring down at Jack's body as if struggling to understand. The rest of the team and Tahlia had crowded into the morgue as well, eyes wide as they watched the strange man approach Ianto.

"Is he really gone?" the man asked. He looked up from Jack and faced Ianto.

Every ounce of fury and loss flooded through Ianto as he processed those words, that this man who had treated Jack so badly would now show up to question and mourn his death. Ianto took one step forward, trying to control his anger, but his hands balled into fists at his sides. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Owen shaking his head and ignored him.

"He's dead," Ianto replied in a dull, quiet voice. Gwen and Tosh both stifled another cry and turned to each other for comfort. He ignored them as well; there would be time for them to mourn together later. He concentrated on the man before him, on forcing him away from Jack, away from Jack's team. "And he's not coming back."

The man in the blue suit shook his head, one hand going to his hip as the other ran through his already messy hair and then pulled at his glasses. "But that's not possible. Jack always comes back."

"Not this time." The man's reaction was unnerving, and Ianto was finding it harder and harder to control his anger.

"But he has to," the man murmured as if talking to himself. "He's a fixed point in time, he can't—"

Ianto lashed out, hitting the man square in the jaw with his right fist as hard as he could. He shook out his fingers as the Doctor careened backward, hand to his face and eyes wide in shock.

"What was that for?" he demanded, his voice high with indignant surprise.

"That was for what you did to him. For leaving him." Ianto glared at the man, his lips forming an ugly grimace, his breathing quick. "For daring to come here and demand he come back, when you know damn well all he ever wanted was to be normal, to be fixed—_to be able to die_."

"I couldn't fix him," the Doctor replied, shaking his head. "No one can. He is what he is, and there is nothing I can do about it."

"Then let him die in peace!" Ianto heard his voice break and took a deep breath. "Get out. This has nothing to do with you. In fact, it's happened in spite of you. You should be happy for him." That last surprised him, and the others glanced up in shock, but it was true, wasn't it? Jack had run after the Doctor to find answers, to find release from the curse that bound him to life for eternity. Yet the Doctor had offered no answers, no cure, because Jack was forever.

Well, Jack had now had his deepest desire come true: he was mortal. He had not been able to live a mortal life and grow old, but he had been granted that final gift of mortality that he had craved for so long. The Doctor couldn't take away Jack's death when he had already taken so much of Jack's life; Ianto would not allow it.

"You don't understand," the other man said, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he stared down with a sad expression at Jack. "He's a fixed point in time. You can't just take out a fixed point in time and expect the universe to carry on as if nothing has happened."

"Well, it _will_ just have to carry on," snapped Ianto. "Because there is nothing you can do. He's dead." He choked out the last two words, and then Owen was there beside him, taking his hand as if to check his knuckles, though he was probably holding Ianto back from another right hook; maybe he was even offering his own unique form of support.

The Doctor glanced around at them all. "I'm sorry for your loss, but Jack isn't supposed to die. He _can't_ die. Time is unraveling around him. I felt it as soon as it happened."

Owen was murmuring something about ice for Ianto's hand, but Ianto threw him off and went back to stand by Jack, as if he could protect him somehow from the madman before them.

"What you mean, time is unraveling?" asked Gwen, carefully approaching the Doctor. Tosh stayed back with Tahlia. Owen, oddly enough, moved closer to Ianto, as if in silent support, though also close enough to stop him if he tried anything.

The Doctor gave Ianto a long, thoughtful look before turning to Gwen. "Right. See, Jack is a fixed point in time—"

"What does that mean, a fixed point?" asked Owen. "He's never mentioned it." Jack had not told the team many details about his immortality, but Ianto had known more. He hadn't completely understood, but Jack had tried to explain it late one night after a particularly close call with a multi-limbed alien from the other side of the galaxy.

The Doctor appeared frustrated. He turned and began to pace. "That's because it's a bit complicated for humans," he muttered.

"Try us," said Owen, and Ianto blinked, surprised at the steel in the doctor's voice.

The Doctor paused and looked up; they were all watching him, and he seemed to realize the grim seriousness of the men and women facing him for the first time. "Fine. Think of it this way. Jack is like a button in the fabric of space and time." He paused and grinned. "A very colorful button, not necessarily a functional one, but his presence in the space-time continuum is permanent. He's sewn into the fabric, so to speak. Forever. Now that he's dead, it's like the button has been ripped out, and the fabric is unraveling thread by thread around the hole." He made a gesture toward Jack. "Around him. I can see it."

"You can see it?" asked Tosh, moving forward. Ianto suspected this was something she would understand better than any of them and was grateful for her calm presence. The Doctor turned toward her and nodded.

"I can. I can feel it. I'm surprised you can't."

"We're only human," Owen drawled sarcastically, and the Doctor nodded.

"I know, but it just seems so obvious. And with this Rift you're sitting on, it's only going to get worse."

"What do you mean, worse?" asked Gwen. Ianto glanced at Tosh, because even for his limited understanding of space-time physics, he understood this. She nodded at him, eyes wide as the implications began to run through her mind as well. Ianto spoke up wearily.

"The Rift is like a tear in the fabric of space time. If the fabric is unraveling around the hold Jack's button left behind and meets the tear—"

"It breaks open even wider," finished the Doctor, nodding in pleased surprise. "And you lot already have your hands full with your little tear here in Cardiff. You don't want a full blown rip in space-time that you can't close."

Everyone was silent as they imagined the consequences of something even larger than the Rift opening in Cardiff. The Doctor interrupted them by clapping his hands and rubbing them together.

"Right, so how do we fix this?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at Jack. "How to fix this…"

"A new button?" asked Tosh, and Gwen turned toward her with a puzzled look. "To keep time from unraveling around Jack. Or a patch, more like."

"A good idea in theory, a difficult one in practice," said the Doctor, one hand on his chin. "Patches tend to wear out, by my experience. Fixing something like this usually takes more than a patch."

"Like what?" asked Owen. "Because we're not exactly expert tailors in repairing the space-time continuum around here."

The Doctor pierced him with an enigmatic look. "I know. And believe it or not, neither am I. Not when it comes to Jack. He's an impossible thing."

Ianto felt his muscles tense. He had heard that before, from Jack, and he knew exactly how much it had hurt Jack to hear those words from the man he had waited decades to meet again. Owen reached out and touched his arm, sensing Ianto's move forward, and Ianto took a deep breath to calm himself.

"Don't call him that," he ground out. "He was a man like any of us, and he suffered more than anyone because of that impossible thing."

"I know," said the Doctor, and he sounded regretful. "I do. I know that now. But that doesn't change what we have to do to fix this."

No one spoke, until it slowly began to dawn on Ianto what the Doctor was talking about. This was a man who could travel in space and time. He could do anything, go anywhere, _anywhen_. Jack had gone to the end of the universe with the Doctor and lived through a paradox that would have left lesser men reeling. From the way the Doctor was watching him, Ianto suspected he knew exactly what the Doctor was planning.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head and stepping back toward Jack, as if to protect him once again. "You can't."

"We don't have any choice," the Doctor said. "We have to. It's the only way to fix the hole Jack's button left: make sure it doesn't happen in the first place."

"No!" Ianto exclaimed. "I already told you—he's suffered enough. You took his chance at a normal life, you can't take his chance at a normal death."

They stared at one another, blue eyes boring into brown, until the Doctor stood down, stepping away and turning toward the others. "Can we have some privacy?" he asked. "I'd like to talk to him alone."

"Ianto?" asked Gwen, and Ianto glanced down at the floor, his mind reeling. This couldn't be happening. Jack was dead, and Ianto was about to fight a Time Lord for that death? He'd give anything to have Jack back and gasping to life in his arms, but he would not sacrifice Jack's deepest desire: to be human, to be mortal. He could not, because he had made a promise to Jack.

He was reminded again of the long months with Lisa, of the agonized decisions he had been forced to make almost every day. It wasn't fair that once more he was caught in the middle.

Then again, much of life at Torchwood wasn't fair.

Ianto took a deep breath and nodded at the others. "I'll be fine. You can go."

Gwen still looked extremely reluctant, Tosh and Tahlia worried and skeptical. Owen placed a hand on Ianto's shoulder and squeezed, and Ianto gave him a thankful nod before the doctor turned and went upstairs with the three women. Ianto was left alone with the Doctor, and they stared at one another for a long moment.

"You're Ianto Jones," the Doctor stated, folding his arms across his chest and tucking his hands under. Ianto raised an eyebrow.

"I am," he replied as evenly as he could.

"Jack talked about you, you know," the Doctor continued. "Oh, he talked about all of you, his team. But he talked about you the most. I remember him telling Martha how much he wanted to make it up to you, leaving Torchwood the way he did. How much he wanted to see if there was something more between you, if there _could_ be something more."

Ianto was shocked. He had struggled for a long time after Jack had returned, wanting to believe what Jack said, yet finding it so difficult to trust after all they had been through. Yet here was Jack's Doctor, confirming it so unexpectedly when it had taken months for Ianto to accept Jack's words; even then, he still questioned it at times, whatever it was that they had.

"Did he, then?" asked the Doctor curiously. "Did he make it up to you? Did he let you in?"

"Let me in?" asked Ianto. The Doctor was possibly the last man he wanted to talk to about him and Jack, a total stranger asking about their relationship when sometimes Ianto couldn't even explain it to himself.

"I know from experience that being exceptionally long-lived makes it difficult to let people in—into your lives, into your hearts. Jack wasn't the type to hold back, but I could sense that after a hundred odd years it was getting harder and harder to let himself love. So did he let you in?"

"I'm not sure that's any of your business," Ianto replied stiffly.

"No, you're right, it's probably not," the Doctor agreed. "But you seem to understand him, to care for him. I think he cared about you. I think he let you in."

"And if he did?" asked Ianto.

"Then I'm truly sorry I have to ask this of you," the Doctor replied, watching Ianto's reaction carefully.

"You don't know what you're asking," said Ianto, hating that his voice broke. He took another deep breath to settle himself. "If you did, you wouldn't ask it."

"I do know, and I know how hard it will be." He paused. "Come here for a moment. I want you to see something." Ianto felt his nerves immediately flare with suspicion, and the Doctor rolled his eyes as if he could sense Ianto's reaction. "I'm not going to hurt you. I want you to see Jack the way I see him. Come here."

Ianto felt almost bound to obey, and moved forward reluctantly. The Doctor turned him around to face Jack, lying on the floor, cold and pale and _gone._ Ianto saw a man who was finally at peace. A man he loved and missed, yes, but a man who should not have to sacrifice even more than he already had, even for the Doctor he had idolized for so long.

"Take my hand," said the Doctor, but still Ianto hesitated. "Ianto, I'm not going to hurt you or Jack. Just take my hand. I want you to see."

Ianto placed his hand in the Doctor's…and gasped.

It was as if he had put on a pair of magical glasses. All around him blazed the fabric of time, like a tapestry made from endless strands of light. Each individual thread, radiant and brimming with life, was woven with countless others into complex patterns, breathtaking in their ethereal beauty. Colors he had never dreamed of shone bright with the energy of time and space, swirling in a never-ending dance of love, loss, heartbreak and joy. He felt it in his soul and was staggered by the depth of it, moved to tears yet again when he was certain he had none left. Wiping them dry, he focused on Jack.

God, Jack.

Jack was dead, lifeless, a black ink stain stamped upon a world of vibrant color. Ianto felt his throat constrict, because Jack had always been so bright, so full of life. This was awful, witnessing this darkness instead of the light that had been Jack. He tried to look away, but the Doctor turned him toward Jack once more.

"Look closer now, all around him…can you see it?"

Ianto forced himself to look again, and when he did, he saw it. All around Jack tiny threads of shadowed blackness were slowly rippling outward, darkening the swirling mass of colors, of time, around him. Like a piece of fabric unraveling, time was unraveling around Jack, the hole in space-time growing larger and larger.

It was sickening, the shadow snaking into the world right before him, and Ianto pulled his hand away from the Doctor with another gasp. He leaned forward with hands on his knees, feeling sick but holding back the vomit as best he could, determined to remain strong. He had lost Jack, but he would not have him back only to see him suffer for eternity again.

"There has to be another way," he gasped, standing straight and facing the Doctor. "You can't bring him back, he's dead. And he would want to stay that way."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? You honestly don't think Jack would sacrifice himself if he could save the universe?"

"He has a DNR," Ianto said, working himself up to a new anger. "Do not resuscitate or revive. It was the most ridiculous thing in the world for a man like him to have on file, and yet that tells you everything, doesn't it? He wanted to be able to die. You can't take that away from him."

"I have to." He placed a hand on Ianto's shoulder. "Ianto, listen to me. If time continues to unravel, life as we know it will disappear into a hole in space-time too big for anyone, even me, to fix. Starting right here in Cardiff, with your city, your Rift. We have to fix this."

Ianto let his head fall, his heart racing. He couldn't do it. It was not his decision to make, not his burden to carry. It was Jack's and only Jack's, and Jack was dead. Ianto wanted Jack alive more than anything—a sob escaped his throat just thinking about it—but he could never live with himself knowing that he'd condemned Jack to live for eternity after the man had finally found peace.

He looked up into deep brown eyes and steeled himself.

"Go to hell," he said, and he turned his back on the Doctor, returning to Jack and taking him up in his arms once more.

* * *

Author's Note:

Many thanks to my amazing beta Tamaar, who suggested I get this chaptered up a bit quicker after several readers thought the last one was the end. Come now, don't you know me? I was aiming to shock, but it's not over by a long shot. There are at least five or six chapters to go. The next one is putting me under the table, however, so that might take into next week. The next three are finished, however. So maybe I'll post a one-shot to tide over. Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews! Any thoughts on where it's going? I hope you enjoy the rest!


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